


Signal Fire

by CharmingPromise



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Denial of Feelings, Developing Relationship, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Sickfic, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-03-16 15:23:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 60,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3493343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharmingPromise/pseuds/CharmingPromise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He had been having a perfectly unremarkable day, boring even, by the standards that had been set so far in their new life on the ground, and then Clarke Griffin, co-leader and increasingly close friend, had walked right up to him and stated that they should have sex.  Bellamy had been of the opinion that he was a fairly difficult guy to rattle but in this moment he was utterly dumbfounded. "</p><p>A life-threatening illness complicates Clarke and Bellamy's friends with benefits arrangement. Multi-chapter Bellarke slow burn.</p><p>Now COMPLETE!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This prologue is going to be short and sadly Bellarke-less but I promise the 1st chapter will fulfill all those needs. This is a set-up for the larger plot.
> 
> If you have read this fic in the past and are coming back to remind yourself what happened since my ass has taken 2 years to finish this: a. Bless you kind reader, you have my eternal gratitude for your patience and support  
> b. You'll notice some small changes throughout to make it a little more cannon compliant given a season and a half has aired since I began writing. The substance of the story remains unchanged but it felt pretty shitty to have Miller dating Harper given S3 revelations and there were a few other alterations in order to better fit with the current timeline.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This prologue is going to be short and sadly Bellarke-less but I promise the 1st chapter will fulfill all those needs. This is a set-up for the larger plot.

* * *

 

There you are standing right in front of me

There you are standing right in front of me

All this fear falls away to leave me naked

Hold me close cause I need you to guide me to safety

 

In the confusion and the aftermath

You are my signal fire

The only resolution and the only joy

Is the faint spark of forgiveness in your eyes

 

Signal Fire- Snow Patrol

 

* * *

 

 

 

“I like you,” Fallon muttered bitterly as she pushed through the deep forest undergrowth she was currently scouting for something for dinner. 

 

It was stupid to go off on her own like this, even though they hadn’t been faced with any sincerely life threatening disasters lately, it still wasn’t safe to wander the forest solo. While Grounders and Mountain Men weren’t lurking behind every tree there were still boars big enough to skewer her and panthers with an insatiable bloodlust and no sense of self preservation. She had a gun but she wasn’t exactly a crack shot even when she wasn’t half heartbroken.

 

She needed to get away from them though. She hadn’t meant to fall for her best friend’s boyfriend. It was literally the last thing she wanted but here she was, head over heels for Sully and out on a hunting trip with both him and Fox. She was pretty sure Miller had done this on purpose. Sending the three of them out together. He told her repeatedly that she needed to have it out with the both of them. That they were driving him nuts and if they didn’t get over their petty high school bullshit soon he was going to lock them all up somewhere until it handled itself. 

 

Sully was being deeply unfair to both of them if she was being honest. She should just go hug her friend, cry it out, and insist that they deserved better. 

 

That is what she should do. She and Fox had been friends since they were kids. They had gotten busted together on the Ark, sneaking booze and make-up from the commissary. It had been stupid and childish but they were as good as guaranteed a pardon at 18 if it hadn’t been for the drop-ship, for the Ark dying out there in space. 

 

Down on the ground it had been just like before, FoxandFallon, FallonandFox, like they were a single entity referred to in the same breath more often than not. No part of her wanted to be that girl that let a guy get in between her and the closest thing she would ever have to a sister. But there he was all laughing green eyes and adorable red hair and she was weak.

 

It would have been tenable if not for the conversation a couple nights earlier. If it was an unrequited crush on her part she could soldier on and deal with her feelings as long as her friends were happy. But he had to go and make it all so much more complicated.

 

“I like you,” he had said, a scared sort of urgency on his boyish face. It was everything she had wanted really. She had been in love with Daniel Sullivan since they first stepped on the ground and she had spent nights tossing and turning in her tent, and then later at Mt. Weather, and now again back in her tent envisioning what it would be like to have those feelings returned. 

 

Fox had been quicker about making a move on the charming young thief, she had always been the outgoing one so it wasn’t a surprise. Fallon hadn’t even had time to tell her friend about her feelings for Sully before the peppy brunette had staked her claim and made her move. They had been together ever since while Fallon was left pining away as the third wheel. Until the other day.

 

“I LIKE like you Fallon,” Sully repeated, looking almost miserable. This was less what she envisioned. She wanted them to happily fall into each other’s arms, not this tormented declaration that looked closer to tears than joy. “I know you like me too.”

 

Fallon had just stared at him. Equal parts of her wanted to slap and kiss him.

 

“What are we going to do?” he asked wretchedly. Before she could even begin to consider a response to this Fox was there, long hair draping between them as she kissed her boyfriend in greeting and smiled widely at her best friend.

 

“What are you guys talking about?”

 

So here she was stomping around the forest, alone and miserable, muttering to herself about terrible timing and stupid green eyes. 

 

Fallon could feel tears prickling the back of his eyes and her vision began to swim. Fuck Sully. And fuck Fox. And fuck her. Seriously this was all so stupidly irrevocably fucked.

 

Fallon felt her toe catch on a root, her watery gaze not seeing her path as clearly as it should, and her legs tangled under her. She felt her shin clip a stump and she landed awkwardly, but not as hard, as she would’ve imagined. 

 

Fallon let out a miserable sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob and pushed herself to a sitting position. She brought her hands up and wiped angrily at her eyes. It was then she felt the wet heat as whatever was on her hands was smeared across her face. Fallon felt the despair quickly seeping away, replaced by a slow rolling revulsion. She looked down and gagged violently as she saw what had cushioned her fall. She was still sitting half in the decomposing carcass of a dead deer, its dark blood slicked up her entire side, viscera coating her arms nearly to the elbows.

 

Fallon looked down in horror at the animal, beginning to wipe her hands frantically on her shirt even while she still sat in the bloody remains. It didn’t just look like a panther’s leftovers, this animal had been sick before it died, she could see the blood tracks down its face and from its ears, the blackly viscous nature of the blood.

 

“Fallon!” she heard his familiar (and loved) voice ring out and heard several pairs of shoes crashing towards her. She must have screamed she thought vacantly, still trying to wipe off her hands but now kicking away from the corpse as well.

 

“Oh gross!” she heard Fox groan as she and Sully broke through the thick growth and came around the tree to see her still sprawled on the ground.

 

Fallon felt lanky arms loop under her and pull her to her feet and then she was being crushed to his narrow chest. She could see the red smudge her face left on his shirt and knew that her hands were streaking similar garment ruining stains on his back but all she could think about was his arms around her and the steady beat of his heart under her ear.

 

Fallon shifted slightly as Sully whispered soothing words into her hair and dropped a chaste kiss to the top of her head. She could now see Fox just past Sully’s thin frame and she saw her eyes narrow suspiciously. 

 

Great, Fallon thought miserably. She thought face planting in a diseased deer carcass was bad. The anger flashing in her best friend’s eyes promised to be so much worse.

* * *

 


	2. Sleeping With A Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now for the Bellarke! Thanks for sticking with after the intro... I'm not normally quite so quick with updates (or wordy) but I wanted to get this out as quick as possible. Thanks for reading!

* * *

 

And why leave when I got you, baby?

It's a risk but babe, I need the thrill

I never said you'd be easy

But if it was all up to me

I'd be no trouble, hey, we're in trouble

 

I said ooh, ooh

You got me in the mood, mood

I'm scared

But if my heart's gonna break before the night will end

I said, ooh, ooh we're in danger

Sleeping with a friend

 

Sleeping With a Friend- Neon Trees

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I’m sorry— what?” Bellamy Blake looked down at Clarke who was standing in front of him with a nervous expression that was clearly asking him to ‘please not do this’. She shifted her weight uncomfortably and was turning a delightful shade of pink but she maintained steady eye contact. Whatever negative things he had ever thought of her he would never begrudge the fact that the girl had guts.

 

“You know,” she said and lifted her hands to preform an obvious and vulgar hand gesture involving her thumb and pointer finger in a circle and the pointer finger from her opposite hand.

 

Bellamy gave a choked exclamation and shoved her hands down to her sides, pinning them there in fear she would return to her explicit pantomime, “Yes Clarke I know what sex is thank you,” he said and he could feel his own cheeks beginning to heat up. “What I’m struggling to understand is the part where you walk up and say that you think we should do it.”

 

Bellamy studied the girl in front of him, finally setting her wrists free so she could redirect some of her nervous energy to fidgeting with the ends of her blonde hair. 

 

He had been having a perfectly unremarkable day, boring even, by the standards that had been set so far in their new life on the ground, and then Clarke Griffin, co-leader and increasingly close friend, had walked right up to him and stated that they should have sex.  Bellamy had been of the opinion that he was a fairly difficult guy to rattle but in this moment he was utterly dumbfounded. 

 

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t considered it. He did with an almost obsessive frequency at this point to be honest. He was a man and Clarke was a definitive bombshell, but she was also second only to Octavia when it came to essential people in his life and he had never let himself seriously consider something that would jeopardize that status. 

 

“I’m distracted,” Clarke said haltingly, “And you and I both know that distracted could be dangerous here on the ground.”  

 

Bellamy felt something that he hadn’t noticed rising, suddenly drop in his chest and he refused to let himself consider that it had felt suspiciously like hope. Of course Clarke was treating this with the same logical decision-making process that made her the effective leader she was, not giving into some uncharacteristic emotional whim. 

 

“Distracted,” Bellamy repeated, still playing dumb though he now had a pretty clear idea of where this was going.

 

“There hasn’t…. been anybody,” she continued, looking even more embarrassed and now a little sad as well, “since Lexa,” she finished, a small frown screwing up her pretty face. “And no offense but I haven’t exactly seen the same steady stream of girls slinking out of your tent since that first month. They finally catch on to your game?”

 

“Something like that,” Bellamy responded, shooting her a glare. She was right that there hadn’t been anyone for quite a long time but it wasn’t because of a lack of offers but more so that he just hadn’t found any that was particularly appealing anymore. 

 

“I just figured it would be better for both of us if we could relieve a little,” she floundered briefly for a word before settling on “frustration”. 

 

Bellamy was now the one to shift uncomfortably and did his best to casually position the jacket he was carrying in front of him to hide the quickly evolving situation in his pants. If the mere suggestion of sex with Clarke left him with a raging hard on he could only imagine what the actual act would be like. If they fucked like they had fought it was sure to be mind-blowing.

 

“Interesting theory. But why me, Princess?” he finally replied with what he hoped was at least a semblance of his usual snarky drawl. “I’m sure you know the entire camp is pretty much yours for the taking.”

 

Clarke’s eyes flashed with something that looked a lot like the old anger that had been directed his way daily when they first came home to Earth but that he saw more and more infrequently as of late. Bellamy realized he definitely did not miss being the recipient of that glare.

 

“You know what, forget it,” she snapped but the initial ire was slowly fading into an embarrassed frustration. “I shouldn’t have assumed the attraction.”

 

As shocked as he had been up until that point he was floored to learn there was a new level of surprise that could still be layered on top of that. She thought he was rejecting her because of a lack of attraction?

 

It hadn’t just been a transparent attempt at flattery, Clarke genuinely could take her pick of literally any man on Earth and a goodly portion of the women as well. Clarke Griffin was something like a force of nature in his mind. She was fierce and loyal. She was brilliant and dynamic. All of the verbal sparring that was the basis of their early relationship, and the exciting edge to their current friendship, stemmed from the fact that she was as strong and independent as he was, it was the fault of being too compatible rather than the opposite that had caused them to butt heads. She was a leader. And all of that was wrapped up in just about the sexiest goddamn package he had ever laid eyes on. Sparkling blue eyes, her perfect complexion that was too frequently the canvas for her battle scars, an amazing rack, and that cornsilk blonde hair that made him wonder how he ever thought he had a preference for willowy brunettes. 

 

She wasn’t conceited but Clarke had always seemed to possess an easy self-confidence as she presided in her role of Princess over the 100. Bellamy felt like the biggest ass in existence for being the cause of her self-assurance faltering for however brief a moment, for being the reason for the doubt in her blue eyes.

 

Bellamy reached out and grabbed Clarke’s wrist as she turned to stalk away and yanked her back towards his body. Clarke let out a small “oh” of surprise and Bellamy took pleasure in startling his equally unflappable co-leader. He shifted his hand to the small of her back and pressed until their lower bodies were flush against each other, “Does it feel like attraction is an issue Princess?” he growled in her ear.

 

Bellamy nearly groaned at the flare of an entirely new type of heat that was suddenly naked on her face, pupils dilated and breath coming in shallow pants. He had a crazy few seconds when any of the thousand misgivings he had about this situation didn’t exist, entirely replaced with a sort of feral need. 

 

A loud clatter sounded to their left and Clarke jumped out of his half embrace, looking guiltily to the nearby woodpile where a spaced out Monty was attempting to re-stack what he had just jostled over. Bellamy scrubbed a hand over his face suddenly very aware that he genuinely wanted to fuck Clarke Griffin right in the middle of camp.

 

Things had changed drastically since their days spent at the drop ship. Their people were home from Mt. Weather but it hadn’t come without a cost, Finn was just the first of many heartbreaking casualties and though it had been many months they were all still laying low and licking their wounds. The adults were on the ground and Clarke and Bellamy, while still de facto leaders in the eyes of the remainder of the 100, were no longer holding the entirety of the colony’s fate on their young shoulders. 

 

Clarke was currently staring at him with a look of utter confusion, color still high in her cheeks and the heat still simmering just under the new mask of puzzlement.

 

“It’s a bad idea Clarke,” he said lowly, accurately identifying the source of her look.

 

“Probably,” Clarke said honestly, reigning in her breathing and emotion further so that they almost appeared to be having a casual conversation once more. “It’s just that Jasper and I were out looking for some herbs to treat that infection Murphy picked up in his leg after his dumb ass fell out of a tree last week. He almost walked right off a cliff and I didn’t even notice. I was distracted and someone I care about almost got hurt.”

 

Bellamy couldn’t fight off the teasing grin despite the solemn turn Clarke’s mood had taken, “Princess, I didn’t know you and Jasper had that sort of… connection.”

 

Clarke looked confused again but quickly realized the implication of her story. She screwed up her face in what he thought was a particularly adorable manner and punched him rather hard on the arm, “Bellamy Blake!”

 

“You are the one who indicated it was sexual frustration distracting you,” Bellamy drawled, the teasing flirtation no longer an act, “I just connected the dots.”

 

“There are no dots,” Clarke replied, shaking her head adamantly, “you are dot-less.”  


Bellamy raised an eyebrow and Clarke began to turn that alluring shade of pink again, “It wasn’t Jasper I was thinking about,” she mumbled and for the first time she was unable to meet his eyes. 

 

Bellamy felt his smile turn wolfish and couldn’t help but pursue this course of conversation as far as she would allow, “Clarke Griffin, were you fantasizing about me?” He had to tease her to keep that primal reaction he had just barely quelled earlier from resurfacing.

 

“I didn’t say that,” Clarke said sharply but there was a look in her eyes that made him think he might not be wrong. “It’s just hormones, and it’s stupid, and I can’t be putting people around me at risk.”

 

“You could try putting the world down once in a while and allowing yourself to have a human moment,” Bellamy chided, with more concern than anything else. 

 

Clarke rolled her eyes and some of the intensity fell from her, “So profound, Blake.”

 

“I’m not the person you need for this Princess,” Bellamy said, bringing the conversation back to its origin once more, “I break things.”

 

“Bellamy,” Clarke said softly, stepping back into his personal space. Bellamy shook his head and backed up a couple steps. Her pity was the last thing he needed.

 

Clarke held up her hands in a show of surrender, she wouldn’t try and talk him out of his masochism but she wasn’t going to be a willing participant either. 

 

“I’m not looking for a relationship,” she said instead. “I just want… a release.” Clarke looked embarrassed again. She was strong enough to be okay with showing weakness but even so, he was sure this was a difficult request for her to make. “I just- I thought that maybe since we’re friends now… we could help each other… scratch that particular itch." She chewed at her bottom lip and looked up at him through long lashes,  "I trust you.”

 

Bellamy clenched his fists. He wanted desperately to take her up on this, play out the fantasies that were becoming more and more prevalent in his dreams, both day and night, but he also knew how much he stood to lose. Her affirming her trust in him only reminded him of that.

 

Bellamy respected women, his life could be cataloged by a procession of strong capable women from his mother, to his warrior of a baby sister, to the princess whose side he chose to serve by now. He had seen the way that men had treated his mother, the way they used and then discarded her and he had vowed to never be one of those men, to be better, to be worthy of women like the lady-Blakes and his stalwart partner. He wasn’t a saint, and casual sex was pretty much his M.O. but that was only with the consent and understanding of the other party. 

 

Clarke was a horse of a different color entirely. While she appeared to be giving this willingly he could foresee so many ways this could go wrong. There was also a fairly large part of him that couldn’t bear the thought of tarnishing this bond they had forged with something as inconsequential as casual sex. 

 

The boy he had been when he stepped off the drop ship was still somewhere in him having a full blown meltdown at the prospect of him willingly passing up seeing those tits in their full, unfettered glory, but too much had changed and that boy was only a very small part by now.

 

“I can’t lose you Princess,” he said, worried that he might be revealing too much, saying things that he himself hadn’t even really taken the time to consider fully. He was repeating her own words back to her from their walk before Mt. Weather. “We,” he began, stressing the pronoun, “are too important for me to fuck this up over a physical thing.”

 

“I’m pretty sure I’m the one who propositioned you,” Clarke said.

 

“Yes but I’m one who is going to ruin this if we start,” Bellamy replied, allowing himself to reach out and tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. He was fascinated by those golden strands and would take any opportunity he could to run his fingers through them. 

 

“I really don’t think you give yourself enough credit,” Clarke said with a touch of sadness in her voice, “you are a good man.”

 

Bellamy sighed, ready to deflect her misguided empathy once more but she stopped there.

 

“And you’re a better friend. You’re right,” she eventually continued, “I don’t need to sabotage my friendships over something stupid like this. I’m really sorry for putting you in this situation.”

 

Bellamy winced, he hadn’t wanted an apology and it made him almost sick to think she felt like she had to say sorry for acknowledging natural human needs. 

 

Clarke saw his reaction and gave him a wry smile, “Come on Blake, my ego can take the rejection. Like you said… I’ve got options.”

 

The sharp pang of jealousy that coursed through him with that simple teasing phrase was rather unexpected. He was beyond the point of being able to ignore his physical reactions to Clarke but jealousy was something born from a possessiveness he wasn’t allowed, he had no claim to her.

 

He hid the troubling emotion behind a joking leer, “And a lucky man they will be,” he drawled. “For the record though Princess,” he started, his voice dropping to a deep whisper as he moved his mouth next to her ear, “We would’ve been amazing.”

 

* * *

 

Clarke could feel his hot breath on her ear one second and the next she was watching his back as he strolled back to his tent on the other side of camp. She cursed him internally for his casual unburdened stride while she stood there feeling shaken to her core.

 

Clarke hadn’t been sure how Bellamy would react to her proposition but of the number of scenarios she had envisioned the sweet refusal on the basis of their friendship was not among them. It made her feel like some sort of sex-crazed idiot that he, for all of his sexual innuendos and random bedfellows, was the one who was sensible about their situation and put the value of their shared leadership duties over a mindless tryst.

 

His broad shoulders having finally disappeared into the crowd, Clarke rubbed her face wearily and let some of the pride drain out of her. She was exhausted. The memory of Jasper stepping out into thin air rather than planting a foot on solid ground was more than nagging her even if the lovable goofball should be capable of watching his own step. 

 

She hadn’t been sleeping well, tossing and turning and feeling feverish. When she did drift off to sleep it was to seriously troublesome dreams involving her and a certain dark haired sex god sans clothing. It was one of such dreams that she had been embarrassingly fretting over when she had to pull Jasper back up over the lip of a cliff at the last second.

 

She supposed it might be a case of Spring fever. The weather was warming and things were finally beginning to stabilize and a society was taking root here on Earth. People were feeling secure. With that and the pleasant weather, hormones were running rampant through Camp. Clarke had walked in on more half-clothed, red-faced couples in the past month than she had ever desired to. It seemed to be across the board too, adults and teenagers alike, going at it like rabbits. Even her mother was sending much more obvious sex eyes at Marcus Kane these days. Clarke knew enough biology to understand that being around all of that, the hormones and the provocation, was enough to inspire some level of arousal in her.

 

She had played it off cooly enough to him that hopefully Bellamy thought that her sexual frustration was a general aura and not a highly directional one, as was the reality. Sure she was going through a dry spell but that wasn’t a completely untenable situation. The real reason for her distraction was very easily identifiable as her handsome partner. 

 

It wasn’t like Clarke had been completely ignorant to the fact that Bellamy Blake was an attractive man. She wasn’t new to the idea that he was handsome, or even new to the occasional practice of admiring those good looks. What was new were the disturbingly graphic sex dreams and the consequent distracted bleed over into her waking life. Previously she could be intrigued by that small scar on his top lip, now she had a memory of those lips ghosting down her torso on their way further south. At one point she had been able to appreciate his body for its objectively attractive tan and muscular glory, now she had visions of raking her nails down his back and holding onto those broad shoulders while she straddled his lap.

 

Since Lexa’s death, Octavia had risen in the Grounder ranks and made her home at one of their camps with Lincoln rather than returning to the crashed Ark with Clarke and her brother. The choice had clearly torn Bellamy up and Clarke had been sure for a period of time that he was going to choose to go with her, rather than settle permanently with the rest of his friends. It had been an obvious struggle and she had listened to him outline the various pros and cons around many late night fires. Eventually, and with only minimal encouragement from Clarke, he had come to the realization that his baby sister was no longer the little girl who needed his constant hovering protection, and he had let her go to gain the independence she had so lacked the majority of her life. This, of course, meant that Bellamy made at least monthly trips over to the Grounder settlement. Ostensibly to visit his sister, but also to keep an eye on their still new allies.

 

Bellamy had returned from such a trip the day before and sat across from Clarke at breakfast, as they usually did, so he could give her a quick debrief before they moved onto more social topics. It took Clarke nearly the full 5 minutes of Bellamy’s account of his trip for her to realize she hadn’t comprehended a word that he said. Instead of eating her breakfast she was staring at the spray of freckles across his impossibly high cheekbones and instead of listening to the important information he was conveying she was instead just squirming over the effect that his deep voice had on the state of her underwear. 

 

Distracted had been an understated assessment if she was being honest with herself. He was keeping her awake and drawing her attention away from her very important duties and it just wasn’t sustainable anymore.

 

She had thought for a second about just distancing herself from him but realized that was not an option. Not only would Bellamy immediately realize that something was up he would likely demand to know exactly what was wrong and harass her until it was rectified. They were close friends and spent large amounts of time in each other’s company so everyone would notice if she suddenly started ignoring him. On top of that there was the fact that she didn’t think she was even capable of avoiding him. They were both high ranking members of the community and even though they no longer held official co-leader roles, there were definite expectations of both of them. Just because they weren’t in charge didn’t mean they no longer needed the other to balance them out. It was why they had taken the joint positions in the first place. Bellamy’s hot-head and charisma perfectly complemented her logic and loyalty. It was together that they were most effective. Despite the fights and disagreements that marked their first few weeks they had always been drawn to each other and she wasn’t sure that even her most concentrated efforts could fight that connection.

 

Clarke had finally come to the conclusion that she just had to get it out of her system. She wasn’t the most sexually experienced girl in camp but there had been a couple girls up on the Ark and then one night with Finn and Lexa and she knew that having those needs met could positively benefit her state of mind. The only thing she had to decide was whether she should just find some stand-in to do the deed with or if only the genuine article would do. 

 

Two minutes into some awkward flirting with Jonesy told her that she was woefully out of practice when it came to seduction. She didn’t want to risk her friendship with Bellamy but it was quickly obvious to her that he was the only she was comfortable launching into something like this with. They were friends and no matter what happened she trusted him implicitly. She made lists like those Bellamy had made over potential relocation with the pro side dominated by her handsome partner’s physical attributes and the con side summed up by the potential risk to their friendship.

 

She still hadn’t been completely decided when she saw his mop of curly black hair from across camp but then he had turned to her and she didn’t really have a choice.

 

Bellamy Blake was very stingy with his smiles. He wasn’t humorless, the opposite in fact, and she had seen every variety of sneer, leer, and lascivious grin curve those full lips. But a true, pretenses down, smile of honest happiness was a rarity. It was a goddamn tragedy too because the man had an absolutely amazing smile. At first it had only been O that had been able to charm a full-wattage smile out of him but recently she had been able to elicit a few on her own. Not just the closed mouth grin that he would duck his head charmingly to hide either but a real smile that said that he was as happy to see her as she was to see him.

 

It was one such smile that he had turned on her just minutes before that had completely eroded all of her defenses and made the cons on her carefully constructed list a moot point. The warmth that filled her chest at the sight of such a smile should have made her wonder if a 4-letter L-word other than lust was more appropriate to the situation but she was still far too closed off to begin to entertain those kinds of thoughts.

 

She hadn’t even managed to be eloquent about it. She had just walked right up and blurted it out as though afflicted with Tourettes. 

 

“I think we should have sex.”

 

The look of utter shock on his face would have been hilarious under other circumstances, but she was too uncomfortable to be amused when she was putting herself on the line in such a way. 

 

“I’m sorry—what?” he had asked in that deep voice of his that made her toes curl. 

 

Clarke was fairly certain she had made some sort of obscene hand gesture but in all honesty she pretty much blacked out from embarrassment. Miming had really not been in the game plan for this conversation. Fortunately Bellamy had the presence of mind to consider the fact that they were out in public and pinned her arms to her side before she could do anything else 

 

“Yes Clarke I know what sex is thank you,” he said and though his tone was getting increasingly agitated and he still appeared to be half in shock, she thought she could see something that looked like attraction rising in him as well.

 

Now that it was all over Clarke had no idea how to think or what to feel. He had hauled her against him and looked for a minute like he wanted to take her right there in front of everyone. There was also his sincere affirmation of their friendship, which she couldn’t help but feel warmly about. For all intents and purposes though, she had just been shot down and it would be a lie to pretend it didn’t sting rather fiercely. Even though she had obligations most centenarians couldn’t claim for the sum of their life, she was still just shy of 20 and being rejected sucked.

 

In none of her musings did this result ever occur to her. She had reacted so poorly to Bellamy’s backhanded compliment about having her pick of the camp because of the uncomfortable reality of it. Sure it had been a bit of an exaggeration, there were any number of men who thought that she didn’t know her place and found her strength to be abrasive, but outnumbering them were the ones who either wanted the status of being paired with someone of her rank and the others (probably worse) who just had the hots for her. 

 

She hated having to rebuff would-be suitors, especially those who really were nice and had the best of intentions. She hated even more, the underhanded plays for her that she couldn’t outright reject because they could claim innocence and make it seem like her ego was getting the best of her. Either way, she got enough attention to know that she was desirable, and she knew from their early days on the ground that Bellamy was not incredibly discerning when it came to who warmed his bed at night.

 

Clarke had thought she might be met by teasing or even shock, but she always assumed he would say yes in the end. Instead he had turned her down in one of the most chivalrous manners possible. Bellamy Blake of the revolving bedroom door had declined her offer of no strings attached sex in deference of their friendship.

 

Clarke twisted her hair up off her neck, tying it in a knot at the back of her head. She still felt like her skin was on fire from the brief period of contact in which Bellamy had pulled her flush against him. Her heart was thudding and a pool of warmth persisted in her stomach. If Bellamy Blake wasn’t going to finish what he started it was very clear she was going to have to find someone else who would.

 

Clarke collected herself and walked purposefully over to Raven’s tent. They were in the process of building actual houses and they hoped to be done by next winter but for now they were content to spend the spring and summer in their airy tents. Clarke poked her head in and saw her friend fiddling with some sort of complex electronic equipment. Even Raven’s hobbies required Mensa level thought processes.

 

Raven looked up and a genuine smile crossed her face. It had taken a long time, longer than Clarke would have liked, but the two girls finally had the kind of friendship they should have from the start. Finn’s death had erased the simmering resentment over his infidelity and time had finally given Raven the perspective to see Clarke’s act for the mercy it was and Clarke the ability to forgive herself. With Octavia gone from Arkadia the majority of the time, Raven was her closest female friend.

 

“What’s up buttercup?” Raven asked, the initial smile slowly turning into her usual wry grin as she continued to work on whatever electronic was in her lap. 

 

“It’s going to be a speaker,” Raven said, seeing her eyes on the device, “I’m trying to throw a couple together quickly before tonight. The CD players and that sort of stuff from Mt. Motherfucker are good but we could use some amplification if we wanna make this a real party.” Raven waggled her eyebrows and Clarke rolled her eyes both at the brunette’s nickname for the Mountain Men’s installation and her commitment to a good party.

 

It had been two years since the 100 had been sent to Earth. Two years since the drop-ship and the bracelets, two years since she met these people who she now considered family, who she had risked her life to save before and would do so again in a second. The adults in camp, those who had been adults when they came to Earth anyway, since so many of the 100 were now of legal age, didn’t feel comfortable participating in this particular celebration. It felt crass to celebrate the day that they had sent 100 teenagers to their likely death no matter what the actual outcome had been. For the remaining members of the 100 though, it was an anniversary deserving of a party, it was their independence day. All of the young adults and teenagers had been hard at work all day getting ready for the evening festivities. 

 

“Raven,” Clarke said with mock seriousness, though she did feel a small twist of worry in her stomach, “the time has come.”

 

Raven dropped the speaker and looked up at Clarke expectantly, “THE time?” she asked excitedly.

 

“Raven Reyes, the time has come to get me laid,” Clarke laughed as her friend launched herself up and pulled her into a hug.

 

“Yes!” Raven shouted, “Fucking right it has!”

 

Clarke rolled her eyes again but she couldn’t keep the fond smile at bay. 

 

“MONTY!” Raven shouted out of her tent, “Get over here! We’ve got a mission!”

 

* * *

 

Bellamy’s mood had been slowly deteriorating all day. It had started off with him snapping at a few of the younger kids who had bothered to seek his opinion on their party preparations (If you think I give a shit about flower arrangements you are sorely mistaken) and devolved into him glaring and growling at anyone who tried to talk to him at all. It had only been made worse when Clarke had failed to show up for their usual pre-dinner run and he had to drag Miller along instead. 

 

He wasn’t sure why he was in such a foul temper, a beautiful girl had confessed to wanting him and he had turned her down of his own free will. This wasn’t a reason to glare and shout at anyone who crossed his path. The problem was that being aware of this and being able to fully control his reactions as a result were not the same thing. 

 

Bellamy had rinsed off the sweat from his Clarke-less run and pulled on his clothes, still in an angry pout, before trudging out into the middle of camp where the celebrations were already beginning around a bonfire. He wasn’t feeling especially festive, he was, however, feeling a strong desire to get drunk. 

 

Clarke had seemed to understand his position and hadn’t appeared to take it personally when he had turned her down. He thought he had made her understand that it had nothing to do with not wanting her and everything to do with respect. 

 

The truth of the matter was that Bellamy didn’t entirely trust himself with her. Clarke was their leader and had been their savior several times over in the 2 years they’d been on Earth. She was strong and sexy but she was also good and honorable and there was a part of him that thought he might sully that. Whatever good he had done and changes he had made since they first met, he knew the monster that he was capable of being and knew that the Princess deserved better. 

 

It would be one thing if he believed that he could just have sex with Clarke and walk away but he was in far too deep for that. He didn’t just want to see Clarke come, to unravel at his fingertips. He wanted to see her smile, make her laugh, support her when she needed it, and talk to her about his day. He knew what his sister would call this sort of devotion he was feeling towards his blonde co-leader. Fuck, what most everyone in camp probably called it behind his back. But he also knew Clarke and her limits and the last thing he could bear would be to push her away with his stupid fucking feelings.

 

It was humiliating to seem like the man who was pining away after a woman with no interest in him and he knew that was the impression around camp. Fortunately the only person who didn’t seem to be in on his wretched crush was the object of it herself and he was damned if he was going to let what they did actually have be ruined because he couldn’t keep his emotions in check post-coitus. He was sure that 1 minute inside Clarke Griffin would be enough to wrench all of his secrets from their hiding places.

 

He was fucked.

 

Bellamy grabbed a cup of the special-batch moonshine Jasper was loudly touting to be the greatest, and more importantly strongest, beverage ever made and took a seat next to the fire. Under normal circumstances he would have expected Miller or one of the others to join him but he knew news of his mood had made its way around camp so they were keeping their distance. He had spent a mostly solitary life on the Ark with his sister and mother, not really having many friends for fear they might be suspicious of why they couldn’t visit, or that he might accidentally let slip some hint of Octavia as soon as they were close. On the ground though, his friends were his family and he cared deeply for all of them. He could feel his mood darken even further as the guilt set in over how he had treated all of them throughout the day.

 

He was just so used to having Clarke around. When he began to get agitated or over-emotional she would reign him in with logic and common sense just like when she buried herself in guilt and obligations he would crack wise and lighten the load. They didn’t spend every waking moment together or anything overbearing or cliche like that, but they did share meals and check in on each other regularly throughout the day as friends tend to do, and Bellamy had been very aware of her pointed absence since their conversation.

 

He had hoped to see her out among their friends at the party already but so far there had been no sign of her. Bellamy was beginning to think he had an exaggerated impression of her level of understanding, and that maybe the Princess was actually mad at him however well intentioned his rejection had been.

 

He continued to drown his ill temper in berry flavored moonshine which was definitely stronger than usual but he wouldn’t attest to its ‘best-ness’. 

 

“Jasper!” A familiar voice called from behind him, “Three drinks, pronto.”

 

Raven ruffled his hair as she brushed by his seat at the fire on her way over to Jasper and his vat of alcohol. Bellamy was pretty sure he heard her whisper something along the lines of ‘brace yourself handsome’ and watched her with confusion as she continued her way around the bonfire. She had made more of an effort with her appearance than was usual for the typically very low maintenance Raven and Bellamy could see a decent amount of male attention tracking her progress with less of his friendly confusion and more ‘want, take, have’ hunger. 

 

Jasper stumbled into a handsy hug with the engineer, having “tested” his home brew all afternoon already and handed her 3 cups filled to the brim. Raven balanced these precariously over to the other side of the fire and motioned her companions over with an awkward twist of her shoulder.

 

Monty came bounding across the clearing and eagerly drained half a cup of the moonshine, his lanky frame blocking Bellamy’s view of the third member of their trio. 

 

“Hot damn,” the man on the seat next to him breathed and he heard similar reactions echoing all around.

 

Jasper’s already prominent eyes seemed to bug out even further and he dropped the ladle he was serving with into the vat.

 

“My lady,” he said in only partially mock reverence as he threw himself to the ground in front of Monty. Monty stepped back to give Raven a satisfied high five and Bellamy was finally able to see the girl who had been avoiding him all day.

 

Clarke had clearly given herself over to Monty and Raven’s efforts since the most he had ever seen her do for herself was wind her hair into a haphazard braid or ponytail. Her long blonde hair hung in loose waves that were significantly less dirty and snarled than usual so it practically glowed white gold in the light from the fire. It had always astounded him how naturally pretty Clarke Griffin was, with natural pink to her cheeks and long black eyelashes framing those intense blue eyes, but tonight she had put on some actual makeup. It was light, he expected that Raven had reigned in Monty’s heavy hand in this regard, but he could see a smoky eyeliner and bronzed cheek. And was that a fucking dress?

 

Mt. Weather had been hell ten times over but in the end it had provided them with a number of electronics and clothes that hadn’t survived the Ark’s crashing descent to Earth. With the battle in the mountain nearly a year in the past now it was easier to enjoy the spoils of it without being plagued by the painful memories associated with them.

 

Bellamy could hear his throat click painfully as he swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. Those were Clarke’s legs in a dress. A sinfully tight dress that hugged every inch of her so closely that she might as well not be dressed at all. A dress that was made for a girl with a significantly less generous chest so that hers appeared to be actively trying to escape. A short, tight, low cut dress that was blue. Bellamy spent a great proportion of his self control trying to ignore the effect the girl across the fire pit had on him but 2 years had given him enough experience to know that when she was wearing blue not even his most concentrated efforts were enough. Clarke’s blue eyes were captivating on a bad day and when she wore any shade of blue they became goddamn hypnotic. 

 

Clarke had taken the other cup from Raven’s outstretched hand and was smiling over the rim of it at something the snarky brunette was saying. Monty and Jasper stood by grinning foolishly, seeming happy to just be seen associating with the two stunning women. Bellamy debated getting up and joining his friends but for the second time that day Clarke had created a situation for him which could make standing embarrassing. He also didn’t want to push her, if she had made the effort to avoid him all day it was in his best interest to wait until she came to him.

 

Bellamy took several steadying breaths and kept his eyes trained straight into the fire to avoid looking at the blonde across it. When the tension in his pants had lessened, and his eyes were almost burning from the dry heat of the flames, he forced himself to stand and seek out friends who were wearing less distracting clothes.

 

“Christ, Blake have you seen the Princess?”

 

So much for avoidance.

 

Bellamy glared at Ryder and he swore he might have growled if not for the calming hand Miller lay on his arm. 

 

“She’s kinda hard to miss tonight,” Jones responded but his voice lacked the lecherous tone of his companion so Bellamy found it easier to let slide.

 

“I’m just sending thanks to the universe for whatever material that goddamn dress is made of,” Ryder said, still seemingly unaware of his friend’s bristling anger.

 

“Reyes doesn’t look half bad either,” Miller deflected, dropping his hand from Bellamy’s arm. Bellamy for his part just swallowed the remainder of his drink and glared angrily into the bottom of the empty cup.

 

“Is that right?” Bryan asked sneaking up behind Miller and looping his arms around his waist, “Do I need to go assert my claim? Because I can take a bitch down.”

 

“Yeah I need another drink,” Bellamy said sourly, heading the long way around the fire to avoid his friends and grab another full cup of moonshine. He spared a glance over to where Clarke had been standing and saw she had been drawn into a drinking game involving washers and cups at a nearby table. He had thought it would be better with her back to him so he no longer had to avoid catching sight of her eyes or her nearly as mesmerizing cleavage, but it turned out the dress hugged her ass in a way that pretty much ruined him as well. 

 

He was so fucked.

 

He downed his second cup standing right next to the vat and filled it again before walking back over to Miller, Jonesy, and Ryder. Miller was fairly distracted by Bryan but Jones and Ryder were setting up cups for beer pong and Bellamy figured some competition was just what he needed to get his mind off a certain blue dress.

 

Miller’s distraction quickly proved to be a hinderance and Bellamy scowled at his partner as Jonesy and Ryder drained shot after shot. He held his own but not much could be done to make up for the smitten Miller who spent every other shot turned around in conversation with his severely inebriated boyfriend who was getting increasingly more handsy. 

 

Two pretty embarrassing defeats were all Bellamy could stomach and he excused himself back to the bonfire after filling up his cup once more. He was more than a few drinks in and despite a fairly high tolerance he could feel a tingly buzz setting into his joints. 

 

He couldn’t help the way his eyes automatically began to seek out his erst-while co-leader. He was startled to see her sitting on a log a quarter of the way around the fire from him deep in conversation with a very serious looking Monty. She was clearly still learning the ropes of formalwear as she sat bow legged on the log, her feet out at awkward angles like a baby gazelle in an attempt to get comfortable and still conceal her underwear. Even the most affluent residents of the Ark didn’t have a particularly extensive wardrobe. It was late May and the humidity of summer was beginning to set in so, despite Monty’s best efforts, her formerly tamed hair was starting to curl around her face. Whatever the put-together beauty who had entered the party had done to him, this was a thousand times worse because this girl was looking more like his Clarke.

 

He didn’t know if she felt his eyes on her, or if it was purely coincidence, but she looked up and immediately met his gaze. Whatever Monty seemed so serious about must have been amusing because Clarke’s blue eyes were sparkling with barely contained humor. She smiled across the several seats between them and shot Bellamy a small wave. Bellamy nodded back unable to help a smile of his own and held his cup up in cheers. 

 

“CLARKE!” Harper came stampeding around the side of the bonfire at the same time several loud speakers crackled to life around the clearing blaring out some loud bass-heavy electronic music. Bellamy winced and took another drink. He loved music but to say that ‘dance floor favorites’ wasn’t exactly his genre of preference would be an understatement. 

 

He watched Harper and Monty drag Clarke to her feet and saw her stumble slightly, maybe the sparkle in her eye had more to do with the alcohol than he had realized. 

 

“We’re dancing,” Harper demanded and Raven appeared at her shoulder nodding emphatically. The normally serious leader seemed to have adopted a brand new devil-may-care attitude and she didn’t even protest as she was lead a little ways from the fire to an empty patch of ground on which a dance floor was quickly assembling. Bellamy sensed it was a bad idea to watch but couldn’t seem to help himself.

 

Harper was way too drunk to have anything resembling coordination and resorted to just draping herself over Monroe. Jasper and Monty were obviously a lost cause as they just threw themselves around to the beat and stared at any girl that twirled through their field of vision. Raven had a sort of lithe grace as she flitted around the group, slowly dancing closer and closer to the blonde engineer, Wick, that Bellamy knew she had something going on with. Clarke was in the center of it all and after laughing delightedly at Monty and Jasper’s antics was finally coerced into dancing on her own. 

 

She moved in time to the music, her hips, arms, and feet all seeming to be synched to the beat. Clarke Griffin could dance.

 

He was so beyond fucked.

 

Bellamy watched her curves gyrating between the press of bodies on the increasingly crowded dance floor and cursed every noble impulse in him that had made him turn down the chance to be with her. He watched enraptured for several minutes before he slowly started to draw himself back to reality. 

 

Apparently the other men in camp had been similarly in awe at first, but were now coming out of it as person after person approached his blonde Princess. Bellamy was too far away to hear what any of them were saying over the thump of the music and he was way too distracted to try and analyze if it was a bad thing that she had become ‘his princess’ in his internal monologue. All he knew was that whatever he had known about jealousy before that moment had just been utterly demolished. 

 

Bellamy sat seething for almost 5 full songs, watching men approach her, dance with her, touch her, whisper in her ear before he finally snapped. 

 

Ryder had abandoned his reign at the pong table and made his way onto the dance floor and dangerously close to Clarke. He made a pretense of dancing with Fox off to her right for barely 30 seconds before turning to Clarke who had just ditched yet another partner. Bellamy saw the tall blonde man put a hand on her arm and leaned his mouth down to hear ear so he could be heard over the music. Clarke smiled, she actually fucking smiled, and nodded, allowing him to wrap his thick arms around her waist and pull her close.

 

Bellamy didn’t even register the act of getting up and crossing the distance to the dance floor. He barely noticed the people around him actually moving out of his way as he tore a path to his small group of friends, murder obvious on his face. 

 

It was only Jasper’s hand on the back of his t-shirt and Jonesy’s emphatic head shaking to the side that kept him from laying out his so-called friend who was still wrapped around Clarke’s petite form.

 

Bellamy clenched his jaw and forced his hands to relax out of the fists that were clenched at his sides, “Clarke,” he managed to grind out, pretty sure she wouldn’t be able to hear him over the pounding music.

 

“Bellamy!” Clarke greeted, pulling herself easily away from Ryder and almost skipping the distance over to him.

 

“Can I talk to you for a minute Princess?” he asked lowly, still not confident in the emotional stability of his voice.

 

“Of course,” Clarke chirped, a tipsy smile on her face as she began to weave through the crowd beckoning for him to follow.

 

Bellamy pushed behind her and stalked ahead as soon as they were out of the press of dancing bodies hoping she would take the hint and follow. She did, and they were soon alone in the half light between the skeleton of the fallen Ark and the section of tents claimed by the 100. 

 

Bellamy turned and faced her, hoping that his expression was much more controlled than he felt.

 

“What’s up?” Clarke asked, concern obvious on her face, the two lines that lived between her eyebrows when she was stressed looked even deeper in this shadowed portion of camp. Whatever thoughts of carefree conversation she might have thought they were going to have had been quickly banished by his serious stare and the clear need for secrecy, “Is something wrong?”

 

Bellamy watched her closely, “How drunk are you Princess?”

 

* * *

 

 

Bellamy was staring at her with such an intensity she immediately forgot about all of the small insecurities that had been plaguing her all night. The concern that she was actually going to fall out of the top of this dress, the slight twinge of envy over the way Raven’s slim hips made her look like a double wide in comparison, the uncomfortable feel of anonymous hands on her while she danced, the sweat that was pooling in her bra and causing her hair to frizz around her face, even the deep thrum of alcohol in her system was erased the second she looked into his wide brown eyes.

 

“How drunk are you Princess?”

 

There was that commanding voice, deeper even than usual just as it had been on the dance floor, and despite what it did to her libido in everyday conversation, tonight it was scaring the shit out of her. They had such a period of peace since everything that had gone down at Mt. Weather. It had been wonderful and refreshing and had finally gone on long enough for most of them to start to feel comfortable, but Clarke still felt like she was always waiting for the other shoe to drop. They were well overdue for something terrible to happen. 

 

“I’m not,” Clarke said quickly, “drunk on atmosphere more than moonshine. What’s wrong?” 

 

Bellamy seemed slightly relieved by this news but none of the intensity left his dark gaze. If anything a more intense heat seemed to creep into it

 

“Good,” he said and suddenly Clarke’s personal space was full of Bellamy, he was toe to toe with her and all she could smell was pine and rainwater and sweat and all she could see was tan skin and full lips and freckles. “Because I need you to be completely you for this.”

 

Then his lips were on hers and his hands were tangled in her hair and any rational thought she had about anything was gone. 

 

Kissing Bellamy Blake was like opening a door to a whole new level of experience. He kissed the same way he did everything else in his life with a sort of single minded attention that made her feel like the center of the universe.

 

She spent the first few seconds in shocked stillness before her body responded almost of its own accord. Her lips moved against his and one hand was tugging at his neck to pull him closer, the other at his shirt to reduce the distance between their lower bodies. 

 

Clarke felt one of his hands move down her side, grazing her breast on the way down to grab her ass lightly and she moaned. Bellamy took the opportunity to slip his tongue past her lips and deepen the kiss. Clarke felt like she lost her mind in the eager tangle of tongues and limbs, but lack of oxygen was becoming an increasing problem and she forced herself to pull away. Bellamy shifted the hand in her hair so their foreheads were pressed together and their panting breath mingled between them. 

 

“I thought this was a bad idea,” she choked out. No part of her wanted to bring that conversation up. All she wanted to do was dive her hands back into Bellamy’s tousled black curls and press her basically exposed chest against his hard muscles, but he had planted a seed earlier with his words about friendship and losing each other and it had taken root even in the middle of the pain of rejection. It wouldn’t just hurt her if this caused them to implode, but the entire camp would suffer. Sure the responsibilities were shared among a larger number of people now, but the remainder of the 100 still deferred to the original duo and they needed each other to level out. If they were out of synch everyone else was going to be as well.

 

Bellamy moved his head down to the crook of her neck and began laying alternating kisses and nips to her shoulder and collar bone, hands still roaming up her sides and around her back, “I’m starting to think I can be convinced otherwise,” he said and Clarke was struck immediately by the almost helpless quality of his voice. If there was one thing Bellamy Blake never was it was helpless.

 

Clarke could feel her own hands exploring the smooth planes of muscle across his back and chest, fingers brushing over abs that she couldn’t lie to having checked out more than was appropriate as as platonic friend. She felt him shiver under her touch and a strangled moan forced its way out of him as he desperately pushed the straps of her blue dress off her shoulders. Hearing that sound come out of the man that had been scandalizing her dreams for months now, the way he appeared completely undone by her was more than enough to push her over the edge of control. Someone could have told her that this would kill her and she still would be helpless to stop.

 

“Yeah, fuck it,” Clarke heard herself gasp and she pulled his head up from his attentions at her chest for another searing kiss. Bellamy hooked a muscular arm under one of her legs and Clarke took the cue to boost herself up, wrapping both legs around his slim hips. The short dress hitched up around her waist and it was her turn to gasp as she was suddenly against him in nothing but a pair of panties.

 

Clarke had enjoyed sex in her still rather short history with it but it hadn’t been a necessity to her. The deed wasn’t even done yet, it was only just beginning, and she could already tell that Bellamy was going to be a completely different breed of partner. She was drowning in him.

 

Whatever illusions Clarke might have had about fucking Bellamy into the ground and getting it out of her system in one fell swoop were shattered when he reached between them with one hand and his fingers dipped inside the thin fabric of her panties. She should have known the man would have talented fingers.

 

No, Clarke thought as Bellamy blindly navigated them to his tent, her legs wrapped around his waist, their mouths still fused together. One time wasn’t going to be enough. 

 

Clarke had a second to think that she was totally and completely screwed before they stumbled into his tent, she was deposited on his makeshift bed, and her head was filled with nothing but Bellamy Blake for the rest of the night.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TBC... Take a second and review if you can!


	3. Talking Body

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the kudos and reviews! It means so much and fuels the creative fire so keep them coming. I really appreciate everyone taking the time to read!

* * *

 

 

Now if we’re talking body

You got a perfect one, so put it on me

Swear it won’t take you long

If you love me right

We fuck for life

On and on and on

 

Talking Body- Tove Lo

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Bellamy this has to stop,” Clarke said solemnly, her wide blue eyes conveying just how serious she was.

 

Bellamy looked up at her with an equally earnest expression from where he was still sprawled, shirtless, across a mossy riverbank.

 

It had been two weeks since their first night together, since the three-for (or was it four?) endurance run in his tent while their friends partied into the early morning hours outside. He thought back to when they had finally lain on the pile of blankets on the floor of his tent sometime in between rounds two and three (maybe three and four?) and Clarke demanded they set some ground rules for whatever it was they were entering into. Bellamy had breathed a relieved laugh at hearing her echo his own inability to keep this to a one night affair. It was a dangerous game but he could already tell that Clarke Griffin could be an addiction.

 

They agreed that it was in everyone’s best interest that they keep this a secret. There was a reason they had instinctively snuck off the first time and maybe they should continue to trust their gut in that. A rather large part of Bellamy wanted nothing more than to publicly stake his claim to his gorgeous blonde friend but he understood that having the rest of camp aware that they were regularly screwing each other’s brains out was bound to lead to at least teasing, if not more significant drama. Plus it was just tacky, Clarke had asserted with a small frown.

 

They went on to list a few follow-up rules that included not staying the night and no cuddling (what they were doing just then, with her head resting on his chest and his arm draped around her back didn’t count of course, that was just side by side recuperation). 

 

"And don’t you dare go falling in love with me Bellamy Blake,” she had said with a teasing tone and a soft finger poke to his chest but there was something inscrutable about the look on her face. 

 

Bellamy had scoffed, he was the player between the two, and warned her that it went both ways of course. To be fair he would have said anything she wanted in that moment to make her continue to do what she was doing with her tongue for the rest of their lives. It seemed like an inappropriate time to mention he was pretty sure he was half in love with her already.

 

Something about the sneaking around made their already explosive attraction a little bit hotter and they had spent the past two weeks dragging each other into every manner of abandoned room and empty corner, christening nearly every surface in camp with their sexcapades. 

 

Bellamy was a goner. He wasn’t entirely sure what level of experience Clarke had prior to him, but he had a pretty prolific sex-life to compare current company to, and there simply wasn’t any comparison to make. 

 

He had been with girls who had ten times the experience and knew all of the tricks but that couldn’t compensate for the sheer chemistry he had with Clarke. They fucked like they lead, with a fluid give and take, so they almost seemed to intuit exactly what the other one wanted and when. 

 

Being with Clarke made him reexamine all of his sexual experience up to that point. Where it seemed like girls had been preforming in the past, all breathy gasps and porn star moans, everything was very raw and real now. It wasn’t that she was quiet, the opposite in fact, but her vocalizations were completely authentic. She was bossy and explicit, telling him exactly what she wanted. He loved it. 

 

There was heat and passion but there was also silliness and laughter and he knew he would never be fulfilled without that aspect from here on out.

 

“I’m serious,” Clarke repeated, drawing him out of his contemplation of their evolving relationship thus far, “This cannot happen anymore.”

 

Bellamy continued to stare up, trying to maintain the pretense of sincerity in the face of her obviously real irritation, but he could feel a smile tugging at his lips.

 

“Come on Princess, it’s not even Thursday.”

 

“I know,” Clarke ground out, “you ruined Sunday last week.” Clarke threw the pair of torn underwear down into his lap and yanked her shorts on without. 

 

As much as Bellamy loved the day of the week panties she had scrounged up in some bunker, he was pretty sure knowing there was nothing at all under those athletic shorts was going to be a much greater tease. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Bellamy apologized, pocketing the ripped fabric, he was the son of a seamstress after all, maybe Thursday would turn out to be salvageable. Their wardrobes had increased exponentially having been able to raid Mt. Weather for supplies but it still wasn’t as if clothes were a disposable resource. He really should try and control his macho impulse to just destroy everything she wore. 

 

“Every button on my favorite shirt yesterday,” Clarke continued. Maybe his apology covered the underwear but her favorite shirt was clearly going to require more penance.

 

“Hey! You said to hurry up,” Bellamy retorted, remembering vividly the way the buttons easily popped off with one swift tug, much more effective than his fumbling attempts to undo each one individually, albeit an unfortunately permanent solution. 

 

Clarke continued to glare down at him, her hands on her hips in a defiant pose. It was moments like these when Bellamy realized how much trouble he genuinely was in with this girl. It was getting hard for even him to pretend that the affection that welled up when he looked at her now was purely platonic. He had never met a girl so fiery and opinionated and he now found that to be his absolute preference. 

 

Bellamy snagged her ankle with one hand, brushing a thumb over the skin inside her leg, “I’ll try to contain myself,” he promised with some level of actual sincerity, he still didn’t think a few torn clothes were that big a deal but if it bothered her he would make an effort.

 

“You better, or the entire camp is going to find out what the ‘greatest tits you’ve ever seen’ look like for themselves,” Clarke teased, the scowl fading into a wry smile. 

 

It was Bellamy’s turn to frown, “They wouldn’t even know what to do with them,” he said somewhat petulantly, yanking his own t-shirt over his head and allowing her to pull him to his feet.

 

“And you do Casanova?” Clarke asked, with more than a hint of a challenge.

 

“Are you in need of another demonstration, Princess?” he growled pulling her against him, hands diving into her shorts to grasp her ass and pull her closer. This possessive streak of his was really not in keeping with their ‘no-feelings friends-only fuck-fest’ but he was at a complete loss as to how to turn it off.

 

“Bellamy!” she admonished, knocking his hands off her and jumping out of reach, “We’ve been gone almost two hours already. I know I’m the picture of fitness but I’m not sure they’re going to believe you’ve been running this long.”

 

Bellamy smirked and held up his hands in surrender. The truth was, he was always trying to delay their inevitable return to reality after these dalliances. It was a hard balance to strike in a relationship, this friends with benefits arrangement. He would catch himself at dinner and realize he had been staring at her mouth or reaching for her hip to pull her closer, just as he would catch himself in his tent trying to ask about her day or tuck her hair behind her ear. It was getting increasingly hard not to let their sexual relationship slip in public or let their friendship bleed into the bedroom. He had to stop himself from kissing her just for the sake of kissing on a daily basis. Kisses hello and goodnight were not on solid ground with feeling-avoidance and it scared the shit out of him that in the moment it always felt like the most natural thing in the world to do.

 

The sex was mind-blowing but he enjoyed the moments between almost more. The transition from fuck buddies in private, to friendly co-leaders in camp, when it was just the two of them being Clarke and Bellamy without worrying that this kiss might have been a little too loving or that high five in the med-bay might have lingered suspiciously long. He would have admitted Clarke had become his best friend a year ago, but with all of the time they were spending together lately the title had been permanently cemented. 

 

“Does this ‘picture of fitness’ think she can beat me back or is her mouth the only thing she’s capable of running?” he asked, making sure it sounded every bit like the dare it was.

 

Clarke chewed thoughtfully on her bottom lip and Bellamy couldn’t help the way the action drew his attention.

 

“On second thought,” she finally drawled, her voice a little throatier than its already husky timbre as she sidled closer to him and rested her hands on his chest. 

 

 

Clarke rose on her tip toes and pressed her lips against his, a little more demanding than he would have expected given she had been laying in a boneless post-coital slump only 10 minutes before, but let it not be said that Bellamy Blake couldn’t rise to the occasion and he returned the kiss, slanting his mouth against hers eagerly. 

 

Clarke had balled her fists into the neck of his t-shirt to pull him closer when Bellamy heard the distinct sound of fabric being rent and the warm press of lips on his disappeared.

 

Bellamy’s eyes flew open to catch Clarke’s blonde ponytail disappearing into the woods, a delighted laugh echoing behind her. He looked dumbfounded down to his chest, where his thin white t-shirt had been torn from neck to navel, and back up at the girl sprinting away from him. 

 

“You little shit!” Bellamy shouted even though he was really more impressed and turned on than he was irritated. He quickly shucked the t-shirt, and took off after her. Her laugh was more of a favorite to him than any of his shirts ever could be.

 

* * *

 

 

Clarke tried to sprint out the last few meters to camp, but the stitch in her side turned it into more of a pained trot. It had seemed chivalrous at the time that Bellamy had offered to let her climb on top so he was the one who got river mud on his back and in his hair but she was now regretting the extra exertion that had meant for her. Lazy bastard.

 

It was still baffling to her that they had gotten to a point in their existence on Earth that she was running for cardio instead of for her life but it would be an outright lie to say that she didn’t enjoy the hell out of it. She hadn’t been an especially athletic person on the Ark. Her hobbies lay more in her art and watching long since finalized soccer matches with her Dad, than lifting weights at the gym. But running through the woods, taking in the fresh air and nature, was a completely different experience. 

 

It brought her honest joy that they were finally comfortable enough to regain that initial awe over the natural beauty around them and had enough freedom to finally enjoy it. She really looked forward to the daily runs out into the woods with Bellamy. Even if they didn’t lead to public sex in a lake or against a tree, she relished having his company to herself for a brief period of time. There was something about the positions they held, and everything they had been through, that made it so only they could really understand certain things about each other. It was great to have opportunities to just enjoy each other’s company.

 

On the Ark she had a few friends among the other children of council members. Wells had been a true and constant companion, but her memories of Wells were now colored with guilt as she thought how much more superficial that friendship had been compared to the bonds she had with her people here on the ground, chief among them the older Blake sibling. Nothing she had before began to touch the depth of her connection to Bellamy and she now understood what a real whole-hearted friendship was.

 

“Took you long enough Princess.”

 

Or not.

 

Bellamy was leaning casually against a pole just inside the fence, holding out a cup of water for her, looking for all the world as though he hadn’t just run 5 miles in almost 80 degree heat. Sure there was sweat slicking his black curls to the back of his neck and a wet sheen to his forehead and chest but he was otherwise the completely composed sex god he walked around camp looking like the other 95% of the time. 

 

Clarke knew the hot mess she looked after any sort of strenuous exercise, blotchy red and pink, hair a frizzy crown around her head, and sweat soaking half way down the front of her t-shirt. She scowled and flipped him off, still reaching for the water he was offering.

 

“Not if you’re gonna be rude,” Bellamy scolded, pulling the cup away. 

 

“You are a child,” Clarke groaned, bending over to rest her elbows on her knees and catch her breath.

 

“Brace yourself,” Bellamy warned as he poured a little of the water from the cup on the back of her neck to help her cool down. Clarke yelped in spite of the warning but she did feel a little less overheated when she stood up again. He handed her the remainder of the water and smiled as she gulped it down. 

 

They walked side by side over to the well and shared another cup in companionable silence, watching the activity of camp bustling around them. While having the adults around was significantly more restrictive than the ‘whatever the hell we want’ freedom of the drop-ship and they often disagreed with the newly established council’s decisions, there was the benefit of having more free time without the pressure of constantly having to lead on them.

 

Raven walked past them, her limp a barely perceptible hitch in her step with Wick’ssuperiorly engineered brace and a year of healing behind her. Clarke smiled and waved but Raven was regarding them with a sort of knowing suspicion. 

 

“Didn’t you have a shirt on when you left Blake?” she called over.

 

“Got it caught on some fucking mile-a-minute out past that field, ripped in about 5 different places,” Bellamy responded quickly for which Clarke was grateful because she felt like she had suddenly developed lockjaw and if not for her exercise flushed cheeks a deep blush would have been obvious. “Why? This too much man for you before dinner Reyes?”

 

“Been there, done that, got the t-shirt,” Raven scoffed without malice, she seemed to accept his excuse and continued on to wherever she had been headed. 

 

Clarke could feel some of the comfort drain out of their silence with the reminder of Bellamy and Raven’s night together. It wasn’t news to Clarke, Bellamy had told her about it months ago in a conversation that had a strangely confessional air. He was apologetic and seemed almost ashamed for which he had no reason to be either, and Clarke couldn’t even begin to rationalize the hurt she felt at hearing about it. Even if it hadn’t been before the newly physical side of their relationship developed, she didn’t have any claim to him and the stab of jealousy was completely unwarranted. He told her it hadn’t meant anything, and it was just one time, and Raven clearly held no nostalgia for the encounter, but whenever it was alluded to Clarke felt that same painful throb of betrayal.

 

“You’ve really gotta work on your poker face,” Bellamy said, saving them from having to address whatever weirdness had just settled down between them.

 

“We’ve really gotta do a better job of being discrete,” Clarke replied, thinking of Raven’s rather perceptive stare. 

 

“Clarke, she bought it, please don’t overreact.”

 

Clarke made herself look up, his brown eyes were just as pleading as his tone was. The use of her first name was usually reserved for very serious situations.

 

“This time,” Clarke retorted, trying not to be moved by his emotive gaze, “you just ran back into camp with no shirt on and mud all over the back of your neck. Last night you didn't leave my tent until just before dawn and last week Miller came into the med-bay about 3 minutes after I got my shirt back on. We’ve had so many close calls and it’s only been 2 weeks.”

 

“So do you want to stop?” Bellamy snapped, his jaw tight and his eyes flashing a hybrid of anger and hurt.

 

“Did I say that?” Clarke hissed, suddenly realizing that even this very conversation out in public screamed ‘let’s get caught’. This was becoming almost routine at this point, her working herself into a panic over their relationship being perceived for what it actually was and him getting defensive and making brash declarations. They had found a lot of common ground in their personalities and the fights had been diluted to good natured banter for the most part, but two people who were so strong-willed and opinionated would inevitably butt heads on occasion. It was unfortunate that the topic they found themselves most often flaring up over lately was the status of their own relationship. 

 

“Maybe not this time,” Bellamy responded bitterly, not taking the same caution she had to lower his voice, “It feels like that’s always on the tip of your tongue though.” It was immensely frustrating to him that the strongest woman he knew was downright skittish when it came to the matter of personal relationships. Especially now that he was the one angling to further insinuate himself into her life.

 

“It’s not!” Clarke demanded hotly, “All I said was we need to be a little more cautious, you are the one reading into it because your stupid male ego makes you want to parade your conquests across camp to show off your prowess.”

 

Bellamy scrubbed a hand across his face almost wearily, the tension of the fight leaving his body and voice, “You aren’t just a conquest Griffin and I think you know that damn well.” 

 

He knew better than to push these things with her. The entire point of keeping things under wraps was to maintain the casual physical nature that was as much as she was comfortable with. If they were affectionate out in public it might force them to put a label that she wasn’t ready for on whatever this was. It was the entire reason he had been hesitant to sleep with her in the first place, that he might push her away with his desire for more, and here he was starting a fight over exactly that.

 

Clarke’s expression softened as well and she went so far as to lightly grasp his wrist, “I just like what we have,” she entreated, “I don’t want any of the drama and crap from camp to ruin it just yet.” 

 

“Alright Princess,” Bellamy said, squeezing her hand quickly but she could swear there was an edge to his voice that sounded like he was making a concession instead of agreeing with her.

 

She really was enjoying whatever the hell the two of them had been doing for the past two weeks. They had already been such great friends and it was a relief to finally be able to act on the attraction that had been between them from the very start. The only downfall at all was the nagging concern that they weren’t being half as secretive as they thought. 

 

They had agreed right from the start that it was in their best interest to keep this between the two of them. It wasn’t that Clarke thought that their people would look down on her when they found out she had succumbed to Bellamy’s notorious sex appeal, she knew they had more respect for the relationship between their two co-leaders than that, but she did worry that it could be used against them somehow. She also knew some of their more meddlesome friends well enough to know that they would make assumptions about emotions and end up creating drama that she would rather just avoid.

 

It wasn’t that there had been that many truly close calls but she was especially concerned about people like Raven who were close enough to them that she was sure they were starting to get suspicious. 

 

Raven had confronted her the night after the party, catching her only 10 minutes after she had snuck back into her tent to change clothes and run a comb through her very obvious sex-hair. Cursing the Blake name over the bruises peppering her collarbone, it was too hot for this goddamn sweater but it was the only thing that even came close to covering them. 

 

‘Where did you disappear to last night?’ she had asked gleefully.

 

‘Don’t get so excited,’ Clarke said, feeling a pang of genuine guilt for having to lie to her friend, ‘Bellamy had me up half the night discussing the structural damage to the north side of the fence from that thunderstorm last week. Mission get-Clarke-laid was effectively aborted’

 

‘What a waste of a perfectly good ‘fuck me’ dress’, Raven scowled. Clarke almost choked, caught suddenly in the memory of that very dress rucked up around her middle through the entirety of round 1 the night before, both of them too frantic to conceive how to actually remove it.

 

‘If Bellamy Blake is going to persist in being such an unrepentant cock-block I’m going to tell him to be ready to step up to the plate himself,’ Raven continued. 

 

Clarke was feeling really guilty by now, vividly remembering rounding every base (repeatedly) with that particular individual only hours before while Raven got so righteously indignant on her behalf.

 

‘It’s not like that, Bellamy and I are-‘

 

‘Friends, yes I know, I’ve heard,’ Raven interrupted, ‘If that’s how you two want to play this that’s fine but I will tell you right now that most friends don’t look about ready to jump each other’s bones constantly the way the two of you do.’

 

‘We don’t-‘

 

‘You do. It isn’t strictly my business so I’ll just say that if you could both kindly backdate it a couple months when you finally do the deed I do have some rations resting on last October.’

 

Clarke had glared and grumbled something about how it couldn’t even be a cock-block if she was the one being blocked and the situation had been diffused but she was highly aware of how perceptive Raven was and saw the increased need for discretion around her especially. If their friends were taking bets on them that only reinforced her concern that they would be some sort of distracting novelty for the group that she had no desire to be. Whatever it was that she and Bellamy shared she just needed some time and privacy to figure it out on her own terms.

 

There were moments when she caught Bellamy looking at her that she wondered if he didn’t want something more. He clearly wasn’t ready to discuss it with her and she knew she wasn’t ready to hear it yet, but there were moments like this when he looked at her with a sort of helpless frustration after she had shut down his line of conversation that she felt terribly guilty.

 

She knew Bellamy’s reticence came from some twisted sense that he wasn’t good enough for her and she hated that she ever reinforced that impression when it seemed like she didn’t want to be seen with him publicly or pursue something deeper. The truth was that she needed Bellamy so much more than she had thought she would ever need anyone. Taking their strong unshakable friendship and supplanting it with something so fragile as a romantic relationship terrified her so she deflected and avoided and he let her.

 

Clarke eyed him closely, he was disguising the defeated droop of his shoulders fairly well and she felt a longing for that carefree joker she had left by the riverbank. She couldn’t even fully enjoy the view of him in all his shirtless golden glory when he was looking at her with those sad brown puppy dog eyes.

 

“Come on Blake, I got you a present,” she said, turning and heading in the direction of her tent. The queen of mixed signals was Clarke Griffin. One second she was telling him they needed to be less obvious about their relationship, the next she was giving him gifts.

 

Bellamy shook his head in consternation but followed her across camp. He let his eyes linger on her ass, he hadn’t forgotten that she wasn’t wearing anything under those shorts, and he was pretty sure he wasn’t imagining the extra sway she put in her hips to remind him if he had managed to forget. If she was going to use sex to distract him from trying to have a conversation about them he decided he was going to let her do it. Again.

 

As soon as the tent was zipped closed Bellamy pounced on her and had pulled her hair from it’s ponytail, kissing a hot trail down her neck.

 

“I’m all sweaty you freak,” Clarke chastised, squirming out of his grasp, “that’s not exactly a present at this point anyway is it?” 

 

“Oh you have no idea Princess,” Bellamy drawled, stepping close again and tugging insistently at the waistband of her shorts.

 

“Hands off!” Clarke insisted, dancing out of reach once again as she shifted through the mess that covered her desk, looking for something. Bellamy wasn’t a particularly neat man and his tent accumulated a solid layer of clutter but it looked downright orderly when compared to the ground zero that was Clarke’s personal space. He had read in a psychology text at some point that mess was the side effect of a creative personality and that was obviously proven in the scatter of art supplies, books, and clothes around the blonde’s tent.

 

Clarke made a triumphant noise and pulled a crudely wrapped package out from the general detritus and shoved it into his hands. Bellamy raised an inquisitive eyebrow, looking between her and the gift. 

 

“Is there some occasion I’ve forgotten about?” he asked skeptically.

 

“No I just…” Clarke shifted uncomfortably. She wasn’t sure what had possessed her to get it for him. Whatever fears she might have about discussing their relationship she honestly cared for him and she supposed this had been her awkward attempt to show him as much. There was also the fact that making him smile was quickly shooting up the list of her favorite things to do. “Friends get each other presents sometimes right?”

 

A smug smile tugged at the corners of Bellamy’s mouth but he turned his attention to the small package and pulled the dirty wrapping paper off. 

 

The smugness fell immediately from his expression, replaced with a sort of wonder that Clarke couldn’t help but enjoy. He looked up at her, the rather battered walkman clutched in his hands, headphones dangling from it.

 

“I’ve got a pretty big box of tapes around here too,” she added, scanning the cluttered room.

 

“How?” Bellamy asked, still staring at her in wide-eyed gratitude.

 

Clarke had grown to know Bellamy very well over the past two years, just over the normal course of a friendship that was bound to happen but the two partners would also sit by the fire and unload on each other after a trying day or share their successes and joys to liven up a joint patrol. Bellamy was just as opinionated and strong willed as she was and he had feelings about just about everything. She knew he loved reading just like her, especially if it was history or mythology, and she had recently been treated to long monologues on his love for music, specifically the alternative rock he had gotten to know through tapes and CDs scavenged from various bunkers since arriving on Earth. 

 

They had gotten a number of electronics when they raided Mt. Weather but most prized among them had been the solitary walkman. Personal, portable music, the only source of such on the ground.

 

Monty had found the walkman but it was prone to eating tapes and chewed through batteries at a completely unacceptable rate until Raven got her hands on it. From then on it was her favorite toy (“I fixed it, also I was shot, I deserve this”). Clarke had heard Bellamy negotiating with the mechanic on a number of occasions, leveraging everything in his possession and one drunken night even making idle threats of kidnapping but Raven held strong. She would even go so far as to flaunt the device in her friend’s face while he looked on longingly. She would play the electronic pop or even country that he despised at an eardrum popping level just to see him glower and yell at her about desecrating all that was holy and that she was an affront to sound on a basic level.

 

“You do have to share custody 75-25,” Clarke warned and she almost laughed at the nakedly hopeful expression on his face, “You have the 75.”

 

“This is amazing Princess,” he said honesty, gracing her with the bright, open smile she had been hoping for when she haggled with Raven over the electronic. 

 

“It’s getting warmer and she really wanted my oscillating fan,” Clarke explained, “she said it gets really hot in her workshop.”

 

“It gets really hot in the med bay too,” Bellamy replied, with more than a little concern.

 

“You know I tolerate the heat better than her,” Clarke said, but she could feel herself flush slightly under his close scrutiny, “I mean she’s doing things like smelting and soldering and whatever, I’m sure she needs it more.”

 

“What do you know about smelting?” Bellamy laughed and she was grateful to be free from that heavy stare again.

 

“Probably about as much as you,” she shot back.

 

“I know that’s not exactly what I’d call what she and Wick do in that workshop,” he said with a lewd grin. 

 

Clarke rolled her eyes and made a superficial effort to straighten up the mess she had moved around on her desk. Raven was playing a similar game to her when it came to relationships and the pulse of resentment she felt towards Finn when she considered this made her feel like a very bad person. She wasn’t allowed to have any sort of negative feelings towards her deceased lover after everything that happened, but she couldn’t help thinking that her and Raven’s fucked up commitment-phobia had something to do with him.

 

Raven very obviously had some feelings for Wick but a large part of her was now of the impression that if you don’t let yourself care you couldn’t be hurt, so she put on a facade like he was nothing more than a convenient fuck. Clarke knew for a fact that every time they started getting close to something more or he tried to tell her how he felt she would turn around and sleep with Murphy to push him away. Wick was completely in love with Raven so he took whatever he could get but it was clear that her frequent infidelities were slowly breaking his heart. Clarke had tried to talk to her about what she was doing with the two men but Raven had just pinned her with a ‘you’re one to talk’ glare and said ‘Do you really want to go there?’ 

 

“Seriously Princess,” Bellamy said, dragging her attention back to him, “this is the nicest thing anyone has done for me in a long time. Thank you.”

 

Bellamy looked so sincere Clarke could only shrug and give him a crooked smile, “Nicer than that thing I did Monday behind the smokehouse?”

 

Bellamy groaned and looked up to the roof of the tent, the walkman clutched tightly in his hands, “You are going to fucking kill me you know that?”

 

Clarke laughed and pinched his ass on the way out of her tent. They only had about an hour until dinner and she needed to wash up if she didn’t want to offend everyone in the mess hall with her stench.

 

Bellamy trailed behind her after stashing the walkman safely in his neighboring tent. He still hadn’t put on a shirt and Clarke sent him an annoyed glare over her shoulder when a gaggle of the younger girls in camp stood in a giggling herd to watch him pass. Bellamy gave her a shrug and a conceited smile as if to say ‘what do you expect’ and she picked up her pace to beat him over to the shower stalls.

 

The cramped stalls were Clarke’s favorite new addition to camp, the water was freezing but to have a few minutes of actual running water to shower off in made her feel more human than anything else had in the past two years. She knew she had Wick and Raven to thank for them and it was another thing that made her feel sad that they couldn’t just be happy together when they were clearly such a good team.

 

Clarke was just about to step into the only open shower stall when she heard commotion from the other side of the row of stalls. It wasn’t the type of commotion that she had been so used to during their first few months on Earth, the kind that made her blood run cold, but a combination of happily raised voices and laughter.

 

Clarke peered around the corrugated metal structures and saw a group of children who had survived the crash of the Ark, a few of the younger delinquents, and some supervisory adults. They were all grouped around a metal tube that was spraying water into the air. The children were taking turns sprinting through the water squealing from the brisk cold and laughing as their friends took a turn. The adults looked on with indulgent smiles and Clarke could see Wick at the periphery which led her to believe the early summer fun was likely his doing.

 

Clarke watched the activity for a few minutes while the crowd began to thin as children were pulled away to get ready for dinner and she couldn’t help the peaceful happiness that started to settle into her chest. A large part of her still couldn’t believe that they had gotten to this place but she wasn’t going to pretend it wasn’t a welcome respite. She even allowed herself a brief moment to consider that if this was what life was going to be now, celebrations and sprinklers, maybe she was allowed to believe that she deserved some happiness herself. Maybe this was the kind of world in which she could safely be in a relationship.

 

She was still observing the dwindling number of kids and thinking idly of warm brown eyes when she felt a pair of strong arms circle her waist and deftly hoist her into the air.

 

Clarke immediately recognized the ass that she was almost eye level with, as her attacker slung her over his shoulder and jogged over to the still forceful spray of water.

 

“Incoming!” Bellamy shouted and the few remaining playmates hopped out of the way, laughing delightedly at the sight of adults getting in on their fun. 

 

“Sorry Princess but you smell terrible, it has to be done.” Bellamy backed up to the sprinkler and Clarke sputtered as the freezing water hit her directly in the face. Bellamy jumped back and forth a few times until she was adequately soaked.

 

“I am going to murder you Blake,” she threatened, swatting angrily at his back.

 

Bellamy dumped her unceremoniously onto her back just outside the radius of the water and tipped his head back and laughed at the disgruntled look on her face. 

 

As annoyed as she thought she should be at him Clarke couldn’t help but get caught up in the playful atmosphere of the late afternoon. It was so rare to see Bellamy this unburdened and jocular and the sound of his laughter created a growing warmth in her chest. She imagined he hadn’t even been allowed these moments of childish fun when he was an actual child, given the onus of caring for and concealing his little sister, and she would give anything to maintain that almost youthful look of joy on his face.

 

Clarke forced a fake glare on her face and scrabbled awkwardly to her feet making an exaggerated show of wringing out the hem of her wet t-shirt. Despite having held her over the water Bellamy himself was remarkably dry, a situation that clearly needed to be rectified. She made as if to stalk back around the other side of the showers but feinted the other direction and snatched the sprinkler off the ground aiming the spray directly at Bellamy. 

 

Bellamy tried valiantly to dodge the fan of water but it was too wide a path for him to ever get really clear of the spray and he was similarly soaked within minutes. Having conceded defeat and given up trying to stay dry he instead changed course and went toward her. Clarke heard a decidedly undignified squeak that must have come from her, though she had never thought herself capable of so girly a sound before, and she dropped the sprinkler to hasten her retreat. 

 

Bellamy was on her in seconds, damn his long legs, his fingers digging into the sensitive skin of her ribs and Clarke couldn’t help the laughter that welled up. It was going to be one of her greatest regrets in life that Bellamy Blake was clued into the fact that she was ticklish. She tried to pin her arms to her sides to protect herself but those talented fingers that she enjoyed so immensely in the bedroom were making short work of her weak attempts at defense. 

 

“BELLAMY!” she shouted, quickly running out of breath as she gasped out fits of tormented laughter, “I can’t breathe you sadist!”

 

“Oh you can use your fancy-pants book-learning vocabulary but you can’t breathe huh?” Bellamy teased, not letting up in the slightest. He had long ago given up any real resentment over her privileged upbringing and she knew for a fact that he was a bigger book nerd than even she was, but he would still sometimes use the old taunt to tease her good naturedly. 

 

“You win!” Clarke wheezed, sure that either her lungs or her dignity were going to give out at any moment, and Bellamy released her with a wide triumphant smile. The laughter in his eyes was almost worth the affront but not quite. Clarke didn’t like to lose. She took a few shaky breaths to regain her composure. She wasn’t holding a whole lot of cards at this point so she went the only route she could and reached out to yank her partner’s athletic shorts down to his knees before taking advantage of the distraction and sprinting to a shower.

 

She heard the delighted squealing from the flock of girls that had obviously still been hanging close to admire Bellamy’s muscular physique and his deep voice groaning a ‘for fuck’s sake’ and she couldn’t help but feel she had managed to pull off some sort of victory in the end.

 

* * *

 

Fallon stood next to Mel and a few of the other young women from the Ark, all taking a few minutes out of their day to admire the physical perfection that was Bellamy Blake.

 

Fallon made a show of enjoying the scene as well as the others but she honestly could barely focus on anything other than the dull ache that had settled into each and every one of her joints.

 

She felt like she was made of rusty hinges instead of tendon and bone. Between that and what she was pretty sure was a low grade fever causing a sickly sweat to break out over her skin she really didn’t have the energy to pay attention to a guy who was quite clearly to anyone with eyes, head over heels in love with the girl at his side.

 

Fallon felt a flash of intense vertigo and staggered slightly to keep her balance even though she had been standing completely still. It would figure that she was getting sick on top of the complete shit that her life had become recently.

 

Fox wasn’t speaking to her after a guilty conscience (and too much moonshine) caused her to word vomit her feelings for Sully to her the night of the Ground Anniversary party. 

 

Even worse, Sully had taken the coward’s route and feigned complete ignorance to everything, acting as though he was flattered by her feelings but confused as to how she thought they might be reciprocated.

 

Fallon was stuck hanging out with Mel and her crew of flighty friends and she honestly couldn’t stand a single one of them. All they did was gossip and flirt, most of them having come down with the Ark, they didn’t understand how utterly insipid they were acting, they hadn’t been through what she had and their stupid mindless babble told her they probably never would understand. 

 

She couldn’t bear to be alone though, so she hovered at the fringe of the group, pretending she gave a shit exactly how many abs Bellamy had.

 

“Fallon!” she heard Mel exclaim, a hand on her arm grounding her through another round of dizziness, “you’re bleeding!”

 

Fallon felt a thick wetness on her upper lip and she swiped at it quickly, pulling her hand away to see the dark blood now smeared across the side of her hand. 

 

No she just really couldn’t catch a break lately.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TBC... Reviews make my day so please take a second if you can!


	4. Do It Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Things are going to start getting a little angsty from here on out. Rest assured there will still be fluff sprinkled in and fluff at the conclusion because I'm a sucker for that but shit’s getting real so they’re going to be a little less light hearted for a few chapters.

* * *

 

 

You Instantly awakened my imagination

Old fashioned infatuation

I can be anything that you want me to be

And you can have me in every position that you dreamed

I know you've got a wild streak

You're a freak

You're alone in your bed with graphic images in your head 

 

Let me do what I want to do with you

Let me tie you down pick you up and

Flip you all around

Let me tell you how sexy you are

As I'm going down on you in the car

If feeling this good is a sin

Let's do it all over again

 

Do It Again- Stroke 9

 

* * *

 

Fallon managed to crack an eye open and look towards the flap of her tent that had been zipped closed since she collapsed onto her bed late Sunday night. It said a lot about her new group of friends that none of them had apparently had the thought to come and check on her since then, but to be fair she didn’t have an honest sense of how much time had passed either. 

 

It had been at least two days, she was pretty sure she had seen two cycles of light and dark through the gap at the bottom of the entrance as she drifted in and out of consciousness, but it could easily have been more than that. 

 

The bleeds had only gotten worse since Sunday, dark blood trickling not just from her nose but from her eyes and ears. If the metallic taste in her mouth was any indication her gums were similarly leaky.

 

The vomiting had been a recent development. The first time she had managed to spit up into a dirty bowl she had never remembered to return to the dining hall after carrying home some leftovers. It was warm and red and speckled with something that looked like coffee grounds. She could feel it, still slippery on her lips, when she slumped onto her bed in a pile of achy joints and sweat-soaked skin. The next few rounds she was just lucky she was on her side, any strength she had to push herself up over the edge of the bed had long since abandoned her and she was left half laying in a puddle of her own sick. She wasn’t very knowledgable about medicine, and even if she had been, her brain wasn’t functioning on all cylinders, but she did know enough to be deathly worried about the bright red arterial look of the blood she seemed to be hemorrhaging from every orifice.

 

Fallon had been on the ground with the 100 since the beginning and from the very first trickle of blood from her nose she had terrified flashbacks to a similar bloody illness that had ravaged their first camp. The memory of the panic and the chaos that it incurred had kept her from going to the med-bay when the first symptoms presented. She had been lucky that it had only been Arkers around when the nosebleed started and they didn’t know any better than to write it off as some normal ground occurrence. 

 

She trusted Clarke, she was their leader and she had proven her dedication to her people over and over. She trusted that she’d show mercy and compassion, as that was her M.O. with the delinquents in the past, but Fallon didn’t have as much faith in the adults. These were the people who had sent them down to potentially die in the first place. All she had done was steal some booze and she had been granted what was as good as a death sentence for it, something she thought to be the opposite of justice or humanity. It was only because of Clarke, Bellamy, and the sheer resilience of the teenage delinquents that it hadn’t been. Kane and even Clarke’s mother hadn’t been there before and she had seen their style of leadership that was so reminiscent of the strict administration on the Ark. She couldn’t begin to imagine how they would react to her illness and the uncertainty kept her confined to her tent, suffering alone.

 

Fallon felt the hot bile rising in her throat once more and managed to tilt her head enough to the side to retch onto the already ruined mattress. Her neck and every other joint was on fire and she wasn’t sure that she’d be able to manage even this half hearted twist of the head next time. She was going to choke on her own vomit if this fever didn’t burn her from the inside out first. 

 

Fallon had a moment of clarity before losing consciousness once more. 

 

Dying alone sucked.

 

* * *

 

Clarke sat on the floor in the hallway of the med-bay, legs stretched straight in front of her, across from Bellamy similarly seated on the other side. The hallway was wide enough that they could both sit with their legs fully extended and their feet were just barely sharing the space in the middle.

 

With Abby and Jackson around, Clarke’s skills were required much less. Unlike them, she had never had any formal medical training, but she still pulled the occasional shift during the week to help with lower priority cases. Bellamy would often break from his station standing guard at the wall or helping to build the cabins to bring her lunch and share in their few minutes of daily downtime before their evening run and dinner. 

 

Bellamy was currently tossing blueberries and Clarke was skillfully catching them in her mouth. They had started off trading roles back and forth, her throwing and him catching, then the reverse, but it had become quickly apparent that they had differing skill sets as more of her throws bounced off his forehead than not, and even when she did manage any sort of accuracy he would open his mouth seconds too late or early. 

 

“You know we don’t really have record books anymore,” Bellamy mused as Clarke snagged yet another berry out of the air, “we could start fresh and just claim everything for ourselves. Most blueberries caught in the mouth by a unapologetic know-it-all.”

 

“Or ‘Most blueberries caught in the mouth despite the abysmal throwing skills of her unreasonably arrogant partner.’” Clarke countered, batting his next throw out of the air.

 

Bellamy rolled his eyes and the next blueberry bounced perfectly off the tip of Clarke’s nose to silence any complaints she had about his aim.

 

“O’s visiting this weekend,” he said, the offhand manner of the comment belied by the happy smile curving his mouth. Even though he had made the resolution to give her some independence and they were still often at each other’s throats the way only siblings could be, he always genuinely looked forward to any chance to spend time with his little sister.

 

“Is she going to be staying with you?” Clarke asked, thinking quickly of the personal items she should probably remember to grab from his tent before his eerily perceptive sister spent time in there.

 

“I was actually hoping she could stay with you,” Bellamy said, the smile falling from his face, “Lincoln is coming. If he stays in my tent it greatly reduces his opportunities to seduce my sister.”

 

Clarke groaned, “Is the day ever going to come when you are mature enough to handle the fact that Octavia is a sexually active adult?”

 

“No.”

 

It was Clarke’s turn to roll her eyes but she allowed the topic to drop. She knew that in her heart of hearts Octavia would never truly forgive her for the bomb dropping on TonDC and Clarke didn’t honestly believe that she deserved to be forgiven. She did know that Octavia was making an effort to move forward and rebuild some semblance of their old friendship despite the lingering resentment if only because it was so important to her brother. Her staying with Clarke for the weekend was likely a less than subtle move on his part to further that relationship and he was just too embarrassed to admit it.

 

“Who’s on the playlist today?” she asked, nodding at the headphones that were hanging around his neck. Since she had gifted him with the walkman a few days before it had been like another appendage, constantly clipped to his pants, headphones resting among tousled black curls or dangling around his neck ready to be slipped back on. Raven had made noise about collecting on her partial share of custody but seeing how attached he was, was enough to weaken even the fiery mechanic’s resolve.

 

Bellamy grinned, just the reminder of his new toy was enough to cheer him up, and he set the headphones gently on her head so she could listen. Clarke shuffled through a few of the songs on today’s mixtape, it was his go-to alternative rock and while he was doing his best to school her on the artists and sub-genres she wasn’t quite knowledgeable to know exactly what she was listening to yet. She did like the music and wasn’t entirely just humoring him when she let him ramble on at dinner most nights. It brought him so much more joy than discussing patrol shifts and cabin blueprints and she could never deny him something that made him happy.

 

Clarke was doing her best to ignore her mother’s gaze which was boring a hole in the side of her head from across the room. Bellamy was much less tactful and turned one of his charming smiles towards the older Griffin woman, waggling his fingers in a sarcastic wave.

 

“Stop instigating,” Clarke warned, though she could see her mother scowl and turn away in her peripheral vision and she was grateful for the brief respite from her watchful gaze. She pulled the headphones off and handed them back to him.

 

“She’s not very fond of me,” Bellamy observed and for all of his disinterested tone she could hear an undercurrent of hurt in the simple observation.

 

“She probably heard tales of your wayward penis and is worried about my reputation,” was all Clarke would say, bouncing a blueberry off one razor-sharp cheekbone to try and lighten the mood. The truth was she had spoken to her mother in depth about her thoughts and feelings on her daughter’s best friend and the conversation was simply too personal for her to be comfortable sharing just yet.

 

‘He worries me Clarke,’ Abby Griffin had said during a serious moment. They had all come back to camp and were trying to re-establish normalcy, or as much normalcy as had ever existed for them here on the ground, and Abby had pulled her aside after dinner one night. 

 

There had been no doubt of Bellamy’s heroics in the rescue from the Mountain and Clarke had thought it would be more than enough to silence the adults’ lingering concerns over his intentions.

 

‘Don’t start, Mom,’ Clarke had warned, ‘he has saved my life time and time again. We need him.’

 

Abby had looked at her with an infuriatingly knowing and sad expression and Clarke couldn’t do anything but wait awkwardly for her to spit out whatever it was that she needed to say. 

 

‘It’s not that, Clarke,’ she said softly, brushing her hair back gently and pinning her with an uncomfortably serious look, ‘I know everything he has done for all of you and I trust him with that. It’s the two of you together that worries me.’

 

Clarke could feel her face getting hot and started to sputter out some sort of denial. Honestly she was getting pretty sick and fucking tired of everyone making assumptions over something they knew nothing about.

 

‘I’m not even talking about that sweetheart,’ Abby interrupted, ‘It doesn’t matter what the nature of your relationship with that boy is. I see the two of you together and I just worry that you have become a little too… codependent.’

 

‘Codependent,’ Clarke repeated, her ire not fading at all with the clarification, ‘he is my friend mom, I don’t see you chastising Jasper and Monty over being too ‘codependent’,’ she made sure to put as much disdain as she could on that final word.

 

‘Well seeing as neither of them are my daughter they are much less my concern,’ Abby replied dryly. 

 

Clarke just shook her head and got ready to storm out of the room, she was an adult and for whatever mending had occurred in their relationship she was still not willing to take this kind of judgement from her mother.

 

‘You don’t see him when you aren’t around,’ Abby called, causing her to pause at the door, ‘When you are gone for more than an hour at a time he storms around camp like a thundercloud, snapping at everyone and being a generally useless pain in the ass.’

 

‘I mean that’s Bell, Mom,’ Clarke said with some level of relief, ‘he can be a little moody sometimes.’ She had been slightly concerned that her mother had observed some sort of revelatory detail that would complicate her easy relationship with her co-leader but fortunately she had just seen the bad side of Bellamy’s temper.

 

‘It’s not just him,’ Abby said, looking almost pained, ‘when he is visiting with his sister you seem to lose all purpose. You walk around camp aimlessly like you can’t really continue anything until he’s back. It’s almost like you two can’t function properly without the other one around.’

 

Clarke once again opened her mouth to protest but was cut off by her mother, ‘I just know what it’s like to need someone like that, and I know what it does to you if you lose them.’

 

‘That’s rich,’ Clarke sneered, all of the malice she had ever felt towards her mother returning in that moment, ‘You have no fucking idea what you are talking about and you can take all of these bullshit observations of yours and stick them right up your ass where they obviously came from in the first place.’ 

 

She had stormed away and refused to ever speak of the matter again with her, whatever she might have to say about anything else in Clarke’s life, her father and Bellamy were strictly off limits. Unfortunately, it didn’t keep her mind from flashing the word ‘codependent’ whenever she found herself feeling a little lost outside of his company or whenever she saw her mother studying them as she so often did.

 

“Wayward?” Bellamy said with a wince, “Christ, Princess, you sure know how to emasculate a guy. Couldn’t have gone with something a little more ‘conquering hero’ and a little less ‘Tom Sawyer’?”

 

“I happen to think Mark Twain is a wonderful storyteller,” Clarke said primly, ignoring his put-upon expression.

 

“Yeah well I guess Tom and I better get back to work, those walls aren’t going to whitewash themselves,” Bellamy drawled as he dragged himself to his feet.

 

Goddamn, of course he had read the book and could make sexy offhand references.

 

“Wait!” Clarke blurted, scrambling to her feet herself and internally cursing her intellectual kink, “Before you get back to work can I run and grab that thing from your tent?”

 

A wicked smile crossed Bellamy’s face, “What thing is that Princess?”

 

“It’ll only take a minute,” Clarke fumbled, she could feel her cheeks getting hot and knew that if anyone was actually watching them they would be able to read her arousal like an open book.

 

Bellamy allowed himself to be almost pulled the distance from the med-bay to his tent, a smug smile fixed on his face.

 

“That thing in my tent?” he teased when they finally stumbled inside and she launched herself at him, “that is hardly the kind of convincing excuse I thought we were aiming for.”

 

“Shut up,” Clarke demanded, dragging his t-shirt over his head when he sat her on the desk and positioned himself between her open legs, “you know I get horny as hell when you start talking literature.”

 

Bellamy lifted her briefly to pull her jeans down and off her legs before dragging her roughly to the edge of the desk to bury himself deep inside of her.

 

Clarke muffled a cry against his shoulder and Bellamy took a second to regain his composure before beginning to move.

 

“Shit Princess, I’ve got enough Greek mythology and Roman history knowledge to keep you wet for years if that’s your thing.”

 

Clarke just bit his lower lip and used her feet on his lower back to urge him faster.

 

* * *

 

 

Fox felt like a complete bitch.

 

She hated that word. It really was degrading to women and she thought they used it far too much to drag each other down but it was the only adjective she could think of right now that really applied.

 

She and Fallon had been friends as long as she could remember and she was an absolute shit person for allowing a boy to get in between them for as long as she had.

 

Sure Sully had charmed the hell out of her right from the start, but she and Fallon were family, and she was scum for allowing herself to forget that. It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen the way Daniel had looked at Fallon anyway. The way he looked at any pretty girl really. He might be charming, and he might have been a half decent boyfriend for the past two years, but she would be an idiot to let that supplant 15 years of friendship. 

 

They hadn’t spoken in over two weeks, since Fallon had tried to be honest with her at the party, but Fox had still seen her around camp and been aware of her presence the way she always had been. Just because she was angry (and in all honesty, jealous) didn’t mean she stopped caring about her. But the last time she had seen her had been Sunday at dinner and she was starting to get worried. Fallon wasn’t unstable and Fox didn’t think she would do anything to hurt herself just because her friends were currently shunning her, but she had heard rumors that she wasn’t feeling well and she knew Fallon’s abhorrence of doctors and a stubborn streak would keep her from getting help if she needed it.

 

“Fallon?” she called as she neared her friend’s tent, “I know I’ve been a total shit lately but I’d really like to talk if you’ll give me a chance.”

 

Fox got within 3 feet of the tent and wrinkled her nose in disgust, it smelled terrible and Fallon had yet to respond to her call. Maybe she wasn’t in there at all, Fallon had been known to leave dishes laying around gathering mold and if she hadn’t been staying in her tent they were bound to start smelling. Fox pinched her nose and continued forward. It might be a good first step towards mending their friendship if she helped to clean her pigsty of a tent up for her.

 

She reached forward and grabbed the outer zipper and slowly pulled the flap open, unable to suppress her gagging as the smell increased exponentially as it was opened. There was no way this was dirty dishes, here on Earth they had experienced a fair share of dead and dying wildlife and she knew the smell of decomp well by now. 

 

Fox could feel a desperate panic starting to set in and almost couldn’t bear to make herself look inside the tent at whatever horror likely lay within. This was Fallon though and whatever had happened she needed to know. 

 

Fox braced herself for all of the worst possible scenarios and still, when she looked into the tent, she could hear herself scream.

 

* * *

 

 

Bellamy smiled fondly as he watched Clarke try and tame her hair into something that looked slightly less like she’d just been fucked senseless on top of a table. He felt briefly guilty for the trouble he caused her but it was well outside of his power to be able to resist diving his hands into that blonde mane whenever the opportunity presented. It wasn’t like she was guiltless on the hair-pulling front either, he was just lucky his was shorter and a constant state of disheveled anyway.

 

Clarke, seeming to sense his thoughts, looked at him mischievously before stretching and running her hands emphatically through his black curls.

 

Bellamy shrugged, “Nice try Princess, you know I’m perfectly fine parading around camp looking like I just got laid.”

 

Clarke scowled and reached back up to smooth his hair down, having given up on her own once it somewhat resembled a braid. 

 

Bellamy leaned into her touch and pressed a brief kiss to the inside of her wrist. He was pushing his luck but they were still breathing heavy and neither of them had managed to button their pants just yet so he figured they were still toeing that fine line between their bedroom and public personas enough that he could get away with it.

 

“It’s not fair for someone as smart as you to look like this,” Clarke said, fingers slipping through his hair and then ghosting down over his face, brushing his eyelashes before moving along his cheekbones and over his lips.

 

Bellamy felt his chest constrict tightly and that annoying little flare of hope that had been nagging him for weeks now reignited. It wasn’t that Clarke was never affectionate, they were very close friends and both were remarkably tactile people, so there were always small touches being exchanged between the pair. He would guide her to their dinner table with a hand at the small of her back or she would elbow him in the side over a particularly crass quip. 

 

A few weeks ago it had been torment the way she casually doled out touches, nudging him over a private joke or punching him lightly in retribution for something. She was constantly invading his personal space, sitting close by the fire or crowding him at his desk while looked over schedules and plans. Bellamy had worried that it might be a dead give away when they started sleeping together that the sexual tension caused by their constant physical proximity was no longer present but he really didn’t need to be concerned. Knowing exactly what it was like to be with each other only increased the level of tension that constantly hummed between them. 

 

She had been very careful though, to remove all of these casual touches from their sexual interludes. She would rest her head on his shoulder as they sat with their friends at dinner but in private it was like a game of ‘the floor is lava’ as soon as they disengaged from each other, only he was the floor. He knew it was her way of eliminating any potentially troubling relationship-like aspects from this side of their partnership so he never commented on it but he couldn’t help his reaction on the few occasions that she seemed to forget herself and let moments like this slip.

 

Bellamy met her eyes, hoping to get some sort of insight into what exactly was going on in that brilliant, complicated head of hers and that was all it took to startle her out of her moment of solemn reflection, “Seriously, these cheekbones?” she teased, actually shaking the serious expression off her face in favor of a safer playful smile, “Badass Bellamy Blake is positively pretty when you get right down to it.”

 

“Shit I’m secure enough, I’ll own pretty,” Bellamy preened, doing his best to conceal the flash of disappointment he felt over her emotional withdrawal. “You’re one to talk by the way, you’re like a walking, talking encyclopedia with blue eyes and blonde hair.”

 

“Hm, good point,” Clarke said, very clearly just playing along rather than giving into a fit of vanity, “lucky you, snagging someone who is the total package huh?”

 

“Doesn’t much feel like I’ve snagged anything when no one else is allowed to know about it,” Bellamy replied, far more honestly and bitterly than he had intended. He wished he was capable of having these half moments when it seemed like she was at least entertaining the possibility of more between them without shoving his fucking foot in his mouth but of course he was too goddamn stubborn. He knew this was going to be his problem with the Princess. Half doses were just never going to be enough when he felt the way he did about her.

 

“Bell,” Clarke began, and as intriguing as whatever she was going to say had started, with his nickname on her lips, he never got to hear the end of it as a scream rang out across camp.

 

There was a second when Clarke and Bellamy shared a look before they were both in motion, moving toward the sound. It killed him how similar the sentiment on her face had been to what he had been feeling himself just then. It wasn’t shock or surprise or even fear but the ‘I’ve been waiting for this’ resignation of a condemned person. No matter how content or peaceful life on the ground seemed to be it looked like he and Clarke would forever be waiting for the other shoe to drop after what they went through that first year.

 

Bellamy’s longer legs had him on the scene before Clarke but she could see him lingering just outside the crowd that was already gathered, as if he was waiting for her. ‘Codependent’ burned hatefully in the back of her mind for a second before Clarke shoved the thought away, they were partners and this is what they did.

 

The crowd was composed mainly of young adults and teenagers at this point and they quickly parted to allow their two leaders to get closer to the shell-shocked girl at the center of it all. 

 

“Fox,” Clarke said, putting a comforting hand on the girl’s back and looking at her with sincere concern, “What’s wrong? What happened?”

 

Bellamy tracked Fox’s tearful gaze to the tent next to them and he left Clarke to her calm questioning, reaching to move the flap aside.

 

“Fuck,” he swore, instinctively bringing his arm up to cover his nose and mouth as the putrid smell of death and decay, that had only been a mildly concerning underlayer moments before, slammed into him full force.

 

“I think she’s dead,” Fox said hollowly. Clarke eyed the girl clinically. As concerning as the words she just spoke were, Fox’s sallow color, clammy skin, and detached tone were troubling in their own right. If she wasn’t in shock already she certainly seemed to be headed there.

 

Bellamy looked quickly into the tent before letting the flap fall and turning back to Clarke with a wretched look on his handsome face. The soulful brown eyes that had been dancing playfully less than five minutes before had taken a damned cast and she felt panic start to bubble up in her chest. 

 

Bellamy was a man of action. When something was wrong he immediately went into planning mode so the look of sick resignation on his face terrified her. 

 

Clarke gave Fox’s shoulder a comforting squeeze and instructed a bystander to run and get her mother and Jackson and to let them know that someone might be in shock.

 

Bellamy still hadn’t said anything and she felt a brief flare of anger that he was going to make her look in that tent herself, that he was forcing her see for herself what had put that look on his face. It quickly retreated though as she considered that this was exactly why she felt the way she did about Bellamy. In ordinary circumstances her subconscious would have had a field day with that passing thought (‘And what feeling is that exactly, _Princess?’_ ) but right now she was too consumed with the dread that she was pretty sure she was about to see a dead body. Bellamy respected her strength, clearly trusted in it. Despite having a possessive and protective streak a mile long he knew that she could handle this like she handled everything they had been dealt so far and wouldn’t demean her in some misguided attempt to save her from whatever new horror lay in front of them.

 

Clarke steeled herself and lifted the tent flap, Bellamy standing close enough that she could feel his body heat along her side and could feel him stiffen at the smell once again. 

 

‘Not a new horror after all’, was the disjointed thought that went through her head as she surveyed the scene in front of her. Laying on the bedding was one of the original 100, Fallon, a pretty red head with freckles enough to rival Bellamy, though you would never know how cute and vivacious she was in her current state. A sick feeling twisted her gut that she was pretty sure had nothing to do with the smell or the sight in front of her. It felt a lot more like apprehension. ‘Not this again’ was beating a mantra around her head.

 

She turned her head towards her partner and they had a moment of their trademark silent communication in which his eyes told her he remembered what this looked like too. The hot red and black vomit, the blood tracks streaking her face and trickling from her ears. They both had first hand experience the last time this particular terror uprooted their lives and neither of them were going to make the mistake of ignoring the severity of the situation. This looked exactly like the hemorrhagic fever that had ripped through camp in those early months and they both knew it.

 

Clarke’s attention snapped back to the prone figure in the tent when a weak groan sounded from the bed.

 

Clarke had the forethought to grab Bellamy’s wrist as she turned around and started barking orders to the crowd surrounding them, the last thing she needed was him doing something senselessly heroic. They hadn’t been to each other what they were now the first time around and it had still broken her a little when she saw her normally formidable co-leader sick and defeated. Having to witness that happening to her best friend would probably destroy her.

 

“Grab my mom before she gets here,” Clarke instructed, “tell her she needs to go back and get the radiation suits from Mt. Weather. Everyone else clear out, this tent is quarantined and I want at least a 20 foot radius around it.”

 

Bellamy quickly went to work on making sure her directions were carried out and they had established a decent perimeter by the time Abby and Jackson arrived, haz-mat suits in hand. 

 

Clarke filled her mother in on the situation and Bellamy could see the older woman’s face becoming more tense with every word. Jackson for his part was already stepping into the suit, getting ready to enter the tent. Bellamy knew that it was half because he was the slightly stronger of the pair and half because he was stupid in love with Abby and he wanted to play the hero and save her from having to go into the hot zone. Bellamy couldn’t help feel a pang of commiserating pain for the poor guy since Abby was so obviously involved in some sort of emotional train wreck with Marcus Kane.

 

“We can use the airlock as a quarantine area,” Abby was saying, starting to pull the other suit on herself even as she spoke. “It’s not ideal but it’s better than nothing.”

 

Clarke was nodding but he could see the worried look on her face at the prospect of her mother going into that tent. Whatever tension and ill feelings lingered between the two Griffin women they were still blood and family is family.

 

“None of you are going to be able to carry her,” Bellamy suddenly spoke, shooting Jackson an apologetic look. “She’s small but she’s going to be completely dead weight.”

 

Abby paused, one arm in her suit, the other still hanging loose at her side and she turned to look at him. Clarke for her part was already staring at him looking nothing short of murderous. It was moments like this that he wished they weren’t quite so finely attuned to each other since she had clearly caught his meaning the second he opened his mouth.

 

“Fuck you,” she said angrily, blue eyes flashing anger and something he hoped was concern for his well-being.

 

“I’ll be wearing a suit, Princess, I’ll be fine,” Bellamy said, aiming for a reassuring voice that held none of the fear he actually felt. He had dreams he woke from, gasping, the taste of blood still in his mouth. He couldn’t honestly say he had ever been as scared as he was for those couple days it felt like his insides were liquifying and death seemed like a constant specter at his side. He didn’t like feeling helpless and nothing left him more helpless than his body betraying him like that. He wasn’t eager to relive the ordeal but logic said that this was the only course of action. Sure they could summon someone else in camp with better than average upper body strength but what was the point? They didn’t deserve to be put in harms way any more than he did.

 

Clarke was obviously wrestling with the same conclusion since she hadn’t responded but her eyes were still projecting seething anger. He decided to be flattered that the thought of him in danger clearly made her so unhappy.

 

“Look as soon as this is done with I’ll help you start training with some pull-ups so next time we’re in this situation you can be the one taking reckless chances with your life,” Bellamy said drolly. Clarke just glared, the frown lines between her eyes growing impossibly deep.

 

Abby’s full attention was now trained on her daughter and Bellamy thought he saw something like pity in that knowing gaze, pity and sorrow, which he really didn’t understand, but she was gesturing for Jackson to take off his suit since it was the larger of the pair and he was soon distracted by the process of getting dressed.

 

Abby said something soft and comforting to Clarke and tried to put an arm on her shoulder but the younger woman shrugged it off angrily and stalked over to him instead.

 

“You are an idiot,” she said, helping him to zip into the light yellow suit. Bellamy watched her as she began to inspect the fabric from head to toe, fingers tracing over every seam and checking every zipper. The suit fit but it was a little snug, none of the residents in Mt. Weather had been especially built, they were inclined towards frail and sickly for the most part rather than tall and broad like him. He could feel her hands through the material of the suit and he was suddenly stuck in a weird limbo between scared shitless and hopelessly turned on. Angry Clarke wasn’t the most common persona in his presence anymore but she still did ridiculous things to his libido, especially when she was this mad out of worry over him. She might not be ready to deal with it yet but there had to be something like affection there for her to be this upset.

 

“If you’ve got another option Princess I’m all ears,” he replied lowly when she finished her through inspection of the suit. He didn’t need to hide the fear in his voice when it was just the two of them. She knew him too well to be fooled by pretenses.

 

“Please don’t do anything risky,” she said softly, the anger leaving her face to be replaced by a naked worry, she was chewing obviously on her bottom lip and the skin around her eyes was tight with tension.

 

“I have no intention of living that particular rerun,” he said and it sounded almost like a joke but his tone was completely serious. Clarke reached out and squeezed a gloved hand and he applied similar pressure back. “Besides I know the doctors in this camp are completely incompetent, I’d have to be insane to want to put my life in their hands.”

 

Clarke huffed a watery laugh and swiped angrily at the anxious tears collecting in the corners of her eyes. Bellamy wished that this open show of emotion didn’t have to be precipitated by the threat of him contracting a life threatening virus but he’d take what he could get.

 

Clarke helped him fit the headpiece of the suit over his dark curls and they stared at each other through the plastic visor for a loaded few seconds before he turned and strode purposefully into the tent. 

 

He could hear Clarke, Abby, and Jackson spring into action outside, ordering people away from the path to the Ark but he was quickly consumed by the gruesome tableau at his feet. He didn’t know Fallon exceptionally well but was acquainted enough with her to be genuinely sad over her condition. He knew she and Fox had been close but that there had been something to do with a boy according to Jasper during one of his moonshine-fueled gossip attacks. He knew she was the quiet one of the two and was more whimsical and contemplative. He knew that she didn’t deserve to be dying alone in a pool of her own blood that she had clearly been throwing up for days.

 

Bellamy did his best to detach himself from the mess of it all and focus on his concern for the girl. The headpiece did something to muffle the stench and the blood looked slightly less violent through the faceplate but it was impossible for his stomach not to turn when crouched down next to the slight girl.

 

“Hey Fallon,” he said, biting back the bile rising in his throat, “It’s Bellamy, I’m here for you.” He kept repeating vaguely comforting variations on this as he gathered her into his arms. He didn’t bother to try and reassure her, he wasn’t sure she was conscious enough to understand him and it felt like an unfair lie to say that everything was going to be ok. He could feel the fever radiating off of her and he almost laughed as the thought that it was going to burn through his suit actually occurred to him. It couldn’t of course, but it was a testament to how fatally hot she felt.

 

Bellamy rose and pushed through the entrance to the tent, cradling Fallon to his chest and walking directly to the Ark. He could see people staring at him from a distance, their terrified eyes pinned on the girl in his arms but they stayed away and gave him clear passage to the air-lock that was being repurposed as a sick-bay. 

 

Abby was fully suited and waiting for him just outside the door, she disengaged the lock when she saw him coming and followed him into the room directing him to lay Fallon on the hard exam table in the room. Bellamy ignored the direction and placed her softly on a cot nearby.

 

“She’s dying,” was all he said, “she deserves to be a little more comfortable than that.”

 

Abby very obviously bit back whatever retort she had over being disobeyed and just nodded tightly at him.

 

“Jackson’s in the next room,” she said, “That will have to serve as our decontamination area.”

 

Bellamy nodded and left their best doctor alone in the airlock with the dying girl. The neighboring room wasn’t as contained as their newly formed quarantine but it would have to do. Jackson was waiting just as Abby said he would be and Bellamy spread his arms and legs and allowed himself to be hosed down and doused with an antiseptic smelling chemical before carefully peeling off the suit. He couldn’t help the involuntary shudder at the memory of a similar but significantly more invasive process in the catacombs of Mt. Weather.

 

“You should really get rid of those clothes too,” Jackson advised and Bellamy didn’t need to be told more than once. He quickly shucked the t-shirt and jeans that had been under the suit and he immediately felt slightly better standing in just a pair of black boxer-briefs. Modesty wasn’t a problem for him and it felt too good to be out of the clothes that had come so close to that sickness again.

 

Clarke was waiting just outside the door when he exited, a fresh t-shirt and his athletic shorts in her arms. Rather than handing over the clothes though she let out a relieved groan and threw herself at him. Bellamy staggered back a couple paces, caught off guard by her aggressive hug, but quickly regained his footing and wrapped his arms around her smaller frame. There was no one around and in the intensity of the moment he felt it was safe to press a kiss into her blonde hair. They stayed that way for almost a full minute before Clarke finally seemed to realize his near-naked state and pulled back to sheepishly hand over the outfit.

 

Bellamy yanked on the shorts and pulled the t-shirt over his head. When his head emerged from the top of the shirt he was stricken to see her pulling on her own small version of the suit he had just taken off. 

 

“Clarke,” he said warningly.

 

She looked up, her eyes clearly stating that this was not up to discussion. He couldn’t make a case against her going in when he had just done something even more dangerous himself.

 

“I have to help my mom,” she said and her voice had a lot more resignation in it than anything else.

 

Before he could protest further she had pulled the lever and entered the airlock, the door hissing closed behind her.

 

Bellamy stood in the hallway hair a mess, in shorts and a t-shirt, without any shoes, and no part of him could be concerned with how ridiculous he looked when she was in that room. He ran a hand through his hair and then over his face before setting up a vigil outside the airlock. He alternated between pacing agitatedly back and forth and sitting against the wall so he could see the yellow-suited figures moving around inside.

 

Jackson entered the room in Bellamy’s decontaminated suit not long after and Bellamy glared at his back until the door closed. 

 

At some point Fox had come running up to the room, wild-eyed and tearful, demanding to see her friend. It had taken Bellamy, with an assist from Miller, almost 20 minutes to talk her down and convince her to go rest. That there was nothing she could do for Fallon. 

 

“She in there?” Miller asked, motioning his head toward the door when Fox had finally been subdued.

 

Bellamy nodded grimly and Miller gripped his shoulder in a show of support before following Fox out of the Ark to be sure she ended up in bed where she belonged.

 

He wasn’t completely sure how much time had passed, he left only to grab a change of clothes for Clarke and to snag two ration packets so they’d have something to eat when she was done. After everything he had seen today he wasn’t sure his stomach could handle a full meal anyway.

 

There was a pretty constant stream of people stopping by as word traveled through camp what was going on. 

 

“This again?” Raven asked, sliding down on the floor next to him to keep him company for a little while.

 

Bellamy almost growled when Murphy made an appearance promising that ‘it wasn’t me this time’. 

 

Monty and Jasper wandered in and out several times, the duo uncharacteristically quiet, their eyes holding the same haunted cast he saw in Jonesy and Monroe and later in Harper. There was such a continuous flow that Bellamy almost wondered if they were coordinating shifts.

 

The only constant presence was Marcus Kane who stood silently just down the hall from him. Bellamy couldn’t help but feel a sort of silent camaraderie with the older man over the similarity of their situation.

 

After what felt like an eternity to him, Clarke and her mother emerged from the air-lock. Bellamy scrambled to his feet and Kane materialized next to him in an instant. 

 

Clarke looked exhausted and defeated as they went directly to the decontamination room next door. Minutes later both women emerged, Abby thankfully in a new set of clothes that Jackson had apparently stashed in the room for her. She went immediately to Kane and the two started talking in hushed tones.

 

Bellamy tossed Clarke the items he had grabbed from her tent and she quickly changed. She looked down at the low-cut tank top she was now wearing and raised an eyebrow his direction. Bellamy just shrugged as she walked to his side, he might be scared out of his fucking mind right now but he would still always be in the mood to see her tits in a tight shirt.

 

“She’s gone,” Clarke said simply, her eyes betraying exactly how much the fact hurt her. Bellamy pulled her into a fierce hug, wishing he was able to will some comfort into her. She took it just as hard as he did when they lost one of their people and she would always compound the guilt further when she had been in a position to help them as one of the medics. 

 

“It’s going to be alright Princess,” he pulled away from her, hands still on her shoulders because he was loath to completely break off physical contact, but he wanted to be able to look her in the eyes, “We have the airlock this time and we have better medical supplies.”

 

Clarke let out an empty laugh, “Hemorrhagic fevers are supposed to be handled with bio-safety level 4 protocol. That’s positive pressure suits, a vacuum room, and UV lights. We have ancient radiation suits, an airlock, and a hose.”

 

“Well that’s sure as shit more than the open-ass drop ship. That’s all we had last time and we survived then,” Bellamy reminded her.

 

“It’s worse this time Bell,” Clarke said with a grimace, “She was literally just bleeding out from everywhere. It looked like she’d been there for days with no sign of getting better. People showed signs of recovery within the day last year.”

 

Bellamy wasn’t sure what it was in that particular moment, probably the confluence of a number of factors, the fact that even damp from the decontamination shower, exhausted and sad she was still breathtakingly beautiful, the concern that radiated from every pore, concern not for herself but for their people, because that was the selfless person she was, the way his heart had just sort of settled when she had walked out of that airlock and how easily his nickname had rolled off her tongue, but looking down at her then he could only think how hopelessly, irrevocably in love with her he was.

 

It wasn’t like something in him had switched on, the only shocking thing about the entire revelation was exactly how not shocking it was. The fact was that he had been feeling this for his blonde spitfire of a partner for as long as he could remember, it was just now that he was finally able to put a label on it. She was it for him and it was exhausting him to pretend otherwise  to himself any longer. It was bad enough he was going to have to keep pretending to her that he wasn’t head over heels because he had the distinct impression that Clarke Griffin would not take kindly to her best friend falling in love with her. 

 

Not only would it end the sexual relationship he was enjoying the hell out of, he was pretty sure she would cut him out entirely to save herself the trauma of inevitably losing him. Clarke was under the impression that when someone claims to love you they end up leaving and with Jake, Wells, Lexa, and Finn all on her track record he couldn’t entirely blame her for that. Even more simply than all of this though, he still didn’t really believe he deserved someone like Clarke. He was grateful enough for the affection of her friendship and he sure as fuck wasn’t going to risk that because his dumb-ass fell in love.

 

“We will get through this,” he said softly, it felt bizarre just continuing their conversation when his entire worldview had just shifted but if he was going to keep up the pretense that he wasn’t deep in love with her it needed to begin immediately. “It fucking sucks that we lost Fallon but it seems like she was confined to her tent not walking about camp coughing germs on every flat surface.”

 

“We have no idea when she was exposed or even how,” Clarke said, but she did look slightly comforted by the idea that maybe this would be an isolated case.

 

“We’ll quarantine Fox and anyone else she has had close contact with lately and we’ll keep an eye on them. Hopefully someone will have some idea as to where she picked this up,” Bellamy replied.

 

“Jackson is in there cleaning now,” Clarke said, motioning to the airlock, “We’ll get Fox in quarantine as soon as he’s done.”

 

Bellamy smiled and gave her shoulders a final squeeze before releasing her. This was more their element, making plans and executing them.

 

“Can we discuss this tank top now?” Clarke asked, “Because there’s a reason you never see me wearing it you know.”

 

“I happen to think it fits you perfectly,” he said, stealing a quick look to be sure Kane and Abby were still consumed in their conversation before running a finger over her cleavage, dropping a suggestive wink. It was probably in poor taste to proposition her when she had just spent the day watching one of their friends die painfully but he was never really great with social etiquette. 

 

He was opening his mouth to suggest that if she disliked the top so much she was perfectly welcome to come back to his tent and take it off but the words died on his tongue. He felt a crushing pressure in his chest and a cold sweat broke out along his spine at the sight just over Clarke’s shoulder. Fuck.

 

The small smile that had finally graced Clarke’s face fell immediately and she spun around to see what he was staring at and Bellamy knew the terror he was feeling must have been written blatantly on his face.

 

“I think we’ve got a problem.” 

 

The words hung in the air like a toxic cloud as all four leaders turned and stared at Daniel Sullivan where he stood in the hallway leading to the airlock, bloody tear tracks streaking down his cheeks.

 

Maybe this was going to be exactly like last time Bellamy thought with a sickly increasing dread.

 

 

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TBC  
> Thanks so much for the kudos yall! An extra special thanks to Miss Marissa, Certain Things, Lila, Wright, djrlol, AliSmith32. lushatrocity, Rashaka, candid59, Valiab, tacosandflowers, minimallyeschew, and Marsianfellow who took the time to review. It means so much and I really appreciate the support!


	5. Kiss Quick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I totally just realized my timeline is fucked because its supposed to be the 2nd anniversary of their landing on the ground but is also June and in canon they landed on Earth sometime in the fall since they’re all freaking out about the impending winter. Seeing as they haven’t held that strictly to that on the show though (I see you in your open shirt and beater Bellamy you absolute stud) I’m going to run with it anyway. Apologies!

* * *

 

 

She said "I know Love,

And it's all push and shove,

So stop talking

And put your back into it."

Loaded, oh my hands shook to hold it

I turned her body on, I turned her body on myself.

 

Kiss Quick, I've got a line out the door

Who all think they can save me.

One by one they lay the world at my feet,

One by one they drive me crazy.

 

Shut your mouth,

And pull me out before this all goes gray.

One by one they lay the world at my feet.

One by one they go away.

They go away.

 

Kiss Quick- Matt Nathanson

 

* * *

 

 

“You look like shit,” Raven said bluntly, regarding Clarke with a critical eye from across the table. 

 

Clarke debated if it was worth expending the energy required to flip her off and ultimately decided against it. 

 

“I need nicer friends,” she grumbled. 

 

“No,” Raven replied, nudging Clarke’s dinner plate closer to her as if to alert her to the fact that it was still full, a fact that had not slipped Clarke’s attention, “Friends tell each other the truth. So with that in mind I’d like to amend my previous statement and say that you look worse than shit.”

 

“It looks like someone punched you in both eyes,” Miller added, Harper nodding with grim conviction next to him.

 

Clarke groaned and shoved her plate out of the way so she could drop her head into her arms on the table.

 

“I’m like 80% sure something is nesting in your hair,” Jasper contributed, ignoring her exaggerated distress.

 

“You don’t smell so hot either.” The final statement came from directly next to her and Clarke’s head shot up from the pillow of her arms as she turned to gape at the offender.

 

Bellamy blanched for an instant at her stare before throwing his arms up in supplication, “What the fuck?! She said you looked ‘worse than shit’” he reminded her, pointing accusingly at Raven, “Why am I the one that gets the kicked puppy face?”

 

“Friends tell the truth Blake,” Raven said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “You’re basically her common law husband at this point. Husbands have to protect their partner’s feelings.”

 

Clarke’s face quickly lost it’s faux-pouty ‘how could you’ look to be replaced with a very genuine panic. 

 

“If I’m her husband I think Princess has been neglecting a few of the key spousal obligations,” Bellamy teased, wishing Clarke could just take the joke without losing her mind over them being outed. This was just what Raven did. She made crude jokes to make people uncomfortable. He also couldn’t help but be mildly offended that the prospect of having people know that she was sleeping with him lead to such obvious alarm.

 

“Uh huh,” Raven nodded knowingly, “Whatever you say.”

 

Bellamy’s eyes narrowed in her direction, maybe Raven was more perceptive than he gave her credit for.

 

“Eat your dinner,” he said gruffly, pushing Clarke’s plate back in front of her. It had been a very long few days and despite all of their good-natured teasing they all knew very well the reason for Clarke’s unkempt appearance. The jokes were actually just part of their efforts to distract her, and themselves, from the horror that had beset camp.

 

Clarke and Abby had quickly suited back up and hustled Sully into the airlock when he stumbled into the Ark bloody and feverish Wednesday night announcing that they might have a problem. 

 

Unlike Fallon, Sully still had some of his wits about him and Clarke had reported back what the doomed young man had to say. 

 

So far as he could think exposure had probably happened two weeks ago when he had been out hunting with Fox and Fallon. Fallon had fallen into a decomposing deer carcass. Fortunately something that disgusting stood out in his memory still. He couldn’t be sure if that was the cause but he sadly reported that he hadn’t really spent any time with her since then so if they were both exposed it had to have been then. 

 

That means the incubation period is exponentially longer this time, Clarke had told them with more than a little agitation. They have been walking around camp, potentially exposing people to this for _weeks_. Bellamy could do the math quite easily since that was also the night he had first slept with Clarke but he wasn’t ready to admit to her he had been tracking the length of their tryst like this was some kind of relationship with anniversaries he needed to remember.

 

Bellamy had sat silently at his partner’s side while she and her mother talked out a game plan. He was a reader and he liked to think himself pretty knowledgable about a number of things but unfortunately incubation periods and contagions were not among them and he felt helplessly unprepared to contribute. He was eternally grateful for the brilliant Griffin women who were not only informed and capable, but obvious leaders and decision-makers as well. 

 

Given what they knew of hemorrhagic fevers prior to the bombs, they were spread only by direct contact with the body fluids of an infected person. Of course it was possible the virus had mutated in a hundred years especially in the nuclear bathtub the planet had become but it did seem to hold true with what they had seen in the first outbreak. People only got sick after they had been in direct contact with someone who was sick already. It was clearly different in some respects this time around, with weeks instead of hours between exposure and symptoms and a seemingly deadlier progression, but at its core it still followed the basic rules of the Ebola and Marburg viruses they read about.

 

They had all taken some comfort in the thought that not many people in camp had been in contact with Fallon’s blood and urine until Sully had revealed his scandalous little secret. Bellamy didn’t know the gangly red-head had it in him but he had apparently been sleeping his way through the pool of eligible young females in Arkadia for quite some time now.

 

‘They implant birth control as soon as girls turn 15 on the Ark,’ Sully had reminded them, devastation obvious on his face. It had occurred to each of them in quick succession as they listened to his confession from the other side of the airlock door. Implants meant there was no need for protection and unless he was very much mistaken semen definitely qualified as a bodily fluid. 

 

The airlock had quickly been partitioned into two sections, an asymptomatic side for those who had just been exposed and the other side for those in who the bleeds had started. They had stood in a sort of shell-shocked silence going over the list of all of the people who had been exposed, a huge proportion of which were delinquents from the original 100.

 

Fox quickly joined Sully on the other side of the airlock, followed by two more girls from the 100 and a boy from the Ark. Since Wednesday, Sully had taken a definite turn for the worse and Fox wasn’t looking much better. It still numbered only five on the symptomatic side and nearly fifteen on the other, but none of them believed that every person in that airlock was able to give a 100% accurate description of every person they had potentially sweat or sneezed on over the past 2 weeks. It was obvious that quarantine until the virus burned itself out wasn’t a valid endgame solution and another plan needed to be devised.

 

As it was, they were doing the best they could. Clarke, Abby, and Jackson were working in shifts around the clock, along with a number of volunteers who had some history of medic training to provide supportive care to the infected. They were careful to wear the radiation suits to prevent exposure but it was still a constant torment to Bellamy to have Clarke walking into that virus ridden airlock every few hours. Clarke had just emerged from her third twelve hour shift in less than as many days and she looked half dead on her feet.

 

“I’ve really got to get back,” Clarke said hollowly, shoving the untouched food away from her once more. Bellamy understood staring into blood red eyes and watching recently healthy teenagers throwing up their life blood was probably a pretty legitimate appetite killer but she was going to collapse if she didn’t eat and rest very soon.

 

“You’ve really got to take a break,” Raven corrected, actually putting a carrot into her friend’s hand and moving the limb toward her mouth, “I am not too proud to make airplane noises so help me god Clarke so you better eat that fucking vegetable before I treat you like the baby you are acting like.”

 

“We’ve still got almost three hours of sunlight,” Monty estimated, looking out at the horizon. It was early June now and the summer sunlight extended long past dinner time. “We could make it to the lake for a while before bed, I think we could all stand to get the hell out of this camp for a few hours.”

 

Clarke screwed up her face in disbelief, “The lake? There are 20 people dying like, 50 feet from us, I can’t exactly go frolic at the lake.”

 

Bellamy set his mouth and pulled Clarke up from the table, careful to put a second carrot in her hand before dragging her in the direction of the Ark despite her sputtered protests and demands to know ‘what the fuck he was doing’. 

 

He easily located Kane at his near-constant station outside the airlock. The pair had traded off on silent vigils over the past few days, Kane keeping watch over Abby while Bellamy hovered during Clarke’s shifts. 

 

“Are you going to need Clarke for the next ten hours?” Bellamy asked directly.

 

Kane startled from his uneasy contemplation of the airlock and looked over at the younger pair, Bellamy all resolve and concern and Clarke full of annoyance that was laid over a solid layer of pure exhaustion. 

 

“We lost Sully about twenty minutes ago,” Kane informed them plainly, “he was the only one that was really critical. I was going to order all the medics home for the evening to rest up. Everyone else is stable enough and none of you are going to be any help if you’re dead on your feet.”

 

Bellamy could see the pain on Clarke’s face over the admission that Sully was gone but in it there seemed to be some relief in the release from that obligation. However blunt he was, or maybe because of his bluntness, Clarke seemed to agree with his assessment and her restlessness began to seep out a little. 

 

“Thank you sir,” Bellamy replied, but his eyes had been on Clarke since the second they heard about Sully’s death, “Hear that Princess? You’ve got a council-ordered night off, take it.”

 

Clarke sagged lightly against him and Bellamy debated just dragging her to bed since it was clear that sleep was highest on her list of needs right now.

 

“I guess I could use a good bath,” she admitted, though he could still hear an edge of resistance at abandoning her post. It was part of what he loved about her, that whole-hearted dedication, and he was going to take it on himself to make sure that particular trait didn’t end up being her undoing. 

 

As much as he thought the only place she needed to be was in bed, he knew what she had experienced the past couple days was going to be more than enough nightmare fodder to keep her up and there might be nothing better to distract her than a couple hours at the lake with their motley crew.

 

“Try and let go for a couple hours Princess. You’re going to drive yourself crazy if you don’t,” Bellamy warned, “Octavia will be here tomorrow with Lincoln and we’ll finally have someone in this camp who has the damnedest clue what the fuck this virus actually is. Until then there really isn’t anything you can do. Tomorrow will bring Lincoln and hopefully answers, but tonight you’re going for a swim.”

 

Clarke nodded wearily, relaxing back into his side as they walked.

 

The pair wove their way back to the dinner table where the others still sat, “Well come on then,” Bellamy said, “Daylight’s wasting.”

 

Jasper gave an excited whoop and they all quickly cleared their dishes before heading to Raven’s gate in the fence. It had taken significant negotiations and even some ultimatums on Clarke’s part to get them free passage in and out of camp at first but they were now allowed to come and go basically as they pleased. With the outbreak however, their borders had become understandably more strict, so they had to resort to their old tricks and sneaking around.

 

“This makes me feel like a teenager sneaking out after curfew. I am an adult,” Bellamy groused, his longer limbs and bulkier frame being the hardest to squeeze through the fence causing the usually suave leader to look awkward and flustered. He always took offense when he was treated like one of the teenage delinquents since he was several months into 25 at this point.

 

“Yeah, yeah, you probably want us to get the hell off your lawn too huh?” Raven teased, launching herself onto his back for the walk. Her mobility had improved significantly but they would still make better time with her riding piggy back.

 

Clarke glanced at the couple before picking up her pace so she was walking in line with Jasper at Monty at the front. The twisting in her gut was 100% to do with concern over the muscle in Bellamy’s neck he had strained last week on construction duty and nothing to do with fact that objectively gorgeous Raven had her legs hooked around Bellamy’s waist she told herself calmly. 

 

Clarke had forgotten that the direct path to the lake only took about fifteen minutes since she and Bellamy had been adding miles each direction in order to incorporate it as a stop on their evening runs. She was caught between a sort of forlorn sadness over the fact that they hadn’t been able to take one of those runs the past three nights and an embarrassed arousal remembering exactly how naked they ended up next to or in this lake more often than not.

 

The boys were stripped down to their respective boxers and briefs within seconds of reaching their destination. Monty waded peacefully into the shallows while Miller and Jasper scrambled up a rock several yards above the water, Bellamy trailing purposefully behind having deposited Raven on the bank next to Clarke. Jasper adjusted the busted elastic at the waist of his boxers before throwing himself in a sort of flailing somersault off the side of the rock. Miller blew Bryan a kiss where he still stood, shedding his own clothes on the shore and then launched into a fairly impressive swan dive, cutting into the water with almost no splash at all.

 

Clarke began to slowly pull her pants down and kicked the cuffs over her ankles. Some of the exhaustion that had been weighing her down like an anchor at dinner had dispersed into the beautiful early-summer evening but she still felt the tiredness and the horrors of the week deep in her bones. She managed to shed her pants and tank top and was standing to the side gathering her strength to actually enter the water when she felt Raven link her arm in hers, both of them facing the rock Bellamy was still poised to jump off.

 

The sun was only just beginning to consider setting and the still strong rays threw his handsome profile into shadowed relief. It was one of those rare moments in which Clarke got to just admire exactly how attractive he really was without being the recipient of one of this smug smiles and a smart ass comment. 

 

“He is such a nerd,” she snorted, watching him survey the other boys splashing in the water below, “he’s probably envisioning himself as some sort of conquering general up there above everyone.”

 

“I don’t know, it looks a little more like he’s ready to present Simba to the lesser ungulates of the Savannah to me.” Raven snarked and the pair stood in companionable silence for several quiet seconds. Clarke slowly realized that her friend’s eyes had moved from the lake to her and she was currently examining her very closely.

 

“Oh Clarke,” Raven sighed.

 

Clarke could feel her friend’s eyes boring into the side of her head and she shifted uncomfortably, pretty sure she knew exactly where this conversation was headed.

 

“You’re in deep girl.”

 

“Raven,” Clarke said warningly. She had been down this road far too many times with her to bother with the typical denials.

 

“Shush,” Raven ordered, “I’m not making any assumptions about your physical relationship or lack thereof, or bringing up rumors, or any of the stuff I usually do. I’m just looking at your face and I’m telling you what is basically tattooed across your forehead.”

 

“And what’s that?” Clarke indulged.

 

“I heart Bellamy Blake,” Raven immediately responded, her eyes remarkably serious given the teasing nature of the comment.

 

“I don’t look at Bellamy any particular way,” Clarke responded defensively. She heard the whispers around camp, about the way they supposedly ‘looked’ or ‘gazed’ at each other and she didn’t appreciate the unsolicited observations from her friends anymore than she did strangers.

 

“I used to get so angry with you and Finn for the way you’d look at each other,” Raven continued, seeming to either not hear Clarke or to not care. Her voice took on an almost nostalgic tone and as uncomfortable the direction of the conversation was making her, Clarke couldn’t help but be a little grateful that they had gotten to a point where this is the way Raven sounded when talking about their shared lover. It wasn’t the spitefulness from the early weeks or the agony and blame from the first year but rather resigned remembrance.

 

“He’d just stare stare right through me at you sometimes,” Raven continued, and this couldn’t be said without a little frown but it still lacked the bitterness that might have been deserved, “and it was obvious it wasn’t as intense on your end but I hated those little longing glances and sad eyes you’d give him when you thought I wasn’t paying attention.” 

 

Raven laughed softly at the tortured look on Clarke’s face and squeezed her arm in reassurance, “It’s forgiven Boo,” she said like it was the most obvious thing in the world and her expression took on the smug look again from minutes before, “I wish I’d noticed the way you and Blake look at each other then. I would’ve realized I had nothing to worry about after all.”

 

Clarke didn’t even want to touch this revelation. With a year’s worth of hindsight Clarke still wasn’t completely sure what she had felt for Finn. She had told him she loved him but she couldn’t be sure that wasn’t just another attempt at mercy in a moment when that was the only course of action. She had definitely been charmed by his idealism and sense of adventure, the ‘Spacewalker’ had a way with both his words and actions and she had been pretty smitten instantly. 

 

The truth was more in line with what she had told Raven when she first questioned her about her feelings for her boyfriend, that she had hardly known him. He was fun and sweet and cute and she did love him just as she loved all of the delinquents that had become her surrogate family on Earth, but she could never sort out in her head whether all of that meant that she had been in love with him. 

 

Whatever she and Finn had shared it was lightyears away from the relationship she had with Bellamy. Sure there was some of the same flirting and joking and the attraction was there, to a much more intense degree if she was being honest, but she and Bellamy _knew_ each other. They probably knew each other better than anyone other than their own immediate family and to make any sort of comparison between the way she ‘looked’ at the two men made her wildly uncomfortable.

 

Clarke sighed and opened her mouth to respond, not even sure herself what was going to come out, until Bellamy chose that moment to cannonball off the rock, creating a tidal wave sized splash. 

 

“BELLAMY!” Harper screamed. She had been wading slowly into the cold water and he had left her effectively drenched.

 

“You’re welcome,” Bellamy retorted, spitting a stream of water her direction after he surfaced. 

 

Clarke ignored the fact that the warmth in her chest at seeing his playful performance seemed a lot like evidence for Raven’s point and was just grateful for the timely distraction.

 

“I get you aren’t ready to deal with this,” Raven said not entirely ready to let the conversation die, “I just want you to be happy. Both of you.”

 

“I’ve got you. What else do I need to be happy?” Clarke teased, trying her best to deflect.

 

“Valid point,” Raven replied with a coy smile, “Getting boned on a regular basis is a pretty nice perk too though.”

 

“And I’m done,” Clarke replied, shaking Raven’s arm off of her but giving her a crooked smile to let her know there weren’t actually any hard feelings. She scaled the rock that the others had jumped off of and stood pondering her options. She shared in Bellamy’s opinion that it was better to get it over with quickly and just jump in, but unlike the others she wasn’t the strongest swimmer. Something about launching herself off the dam at Mt. Weather left her deeply committed to the idea that learning to swim was important but also completely put off by the activity.

 

“We all know you’re going to hold your nose and jump like an overgrown child so just go ahead and get it over with Princess,” Bellamy called from below as Clarke shifted uncomfortably above. 

 

Clarke found the energy she’d been lacking earlier to flip off Raven and did so with both hands before pinching her nose and jumping off the rock with exactly none of the grace an actual princess would possess. She made sure to position her landing as close to Bellamy as possible so he got the worst of the splash. 

 

The next hour was spent in this sort of playful manner, Harper, Monty, and Bryan floating side by side, Jasper splashing around by himself, Raven and Miller swimming laps that they claimed were in fun but seemed a little aggressively competitive, and Bellamy and Clarke doing the sensible thing and taking the opportunity to get clean. They had the showers now and as much as Clarke loved them, they were cramped and it felt wonderful every once in a while to take something that resembled a bath.

 

When dusk started to fall for real the group packed up and began the walk back to camp, sure to skirt around the back early enough that they wouldn’t be sighted by whoever was on guard duty at the front gate. They could get away with a decent amount being the daughter of the once-chancellor and generally highly regarded members of their small society but none of them would risk much on the hope that Marcus Kane would cut them a break if he caught them in an actual illegal act. With the near surety that the virus had been caught just outside camp walls it was forbidden that anyone leave camp until a quarantine team could go out and assess the area. 

 

“Let’s go Princess,” Bellamy said, pulling her by her wrist in the direction of his tent. Clarke looked at him with an expression of pure panic on her face for the second time that evening, sure that he was forgetting himself after the peaceful few hours with their friends and accidentally cluing them in on their relationship.

 

Bellamy rolled his eyes at her clear lack of faith in him and gave her a look that said ‘chill out you spaz’. What he said aloud was, “I trust you with _my_ life Clarke but I don’t entirely trust you with your own right now. You need sleep. Not to sneak back to the airlock as soon as we are out of sight.”

 

Clarke couldn’t help but feel a little sheepish given that is exactly what she had been planning. She felt a little more energized after the lake and some rejuvenating time with her friends and she knew Kane’s dismissal had more to do with her own mental health than an actual lack of need in the quarantine area. She still made a show of acting like she had no idea what he was talking about and of course she was going to bed.

 

“Yes because we are going to make sure of it,” Bellamy said firmly, “I’ve already got a bed made up for Lincoln anyway. Raven and I are the only two not sharing our tent already and you know she snores.”

 

Raven waved her hand dismissively, when you looked like Raven Reyes you could get away with acknowledging a few small annoying habits, “Yeah, I’m going to be a little busy anyway,” she drawled. Clarke watched her crook one finger and beckon someone over. Murphy materialized out of the growing dusk like he had just been lurking there waiting for her summons.

 

Clarke almost opened her mouth to protest but decided against it. The ‘deal with it when you’re ready’ rule should go both ways in a friendship and while she was firmly on Team Wick she couldn’t help but wonder if Raven might not have found two men who appealed equally to different aspects of her personality. Wick was a perfect match for her loyalty and laser intelligence but Murphy seemed to be the evil twin complement to her blunt honesty and caustic humor.

 

Their friends dispersed until it was only Clarke and Bellamy in an awkward stand off, her debating the merits of protesting her enforced bedtime and him clearly not open to hearing any of said protests. Finally Clarke gave an exasperated huff and stomped in the direction of Bellamy’s tent as he followed with a pleased smirk on his face. It wasn’t often that he won these battles of the wills with Clarke and he was going to enjoy the moment.

 

Clarke was on him the second they entered his tent, all teeth and frantically roaming hands, and Bellamy gave himself over to her exertions. He would like to think that she was wild with desire for him after spending several hours with him in nothing but his black briefs but he knew this was more a coping mechanism to deal with the intimacy of spending the entire night in his tent. 

 

While he knew sleep was more what she needed right now, he also knew that she needed some way to rationalize spending the night, to make sure that when they woke up together tomorrow morning she could still categorize the night into her neat little ‘friends who fuck’ box. Bellamy was more than happy to let her take the lead because he was pretty sure the prospect of having her curled up against him all night was going to lead to nothing but gentle touches and loving gazes on his end which were going to blow his cover right to shit. He would’ve probably said something tragically sappy about her eyes and sent her fleeing his bed and all his inconvenient feelings so it was probably for the best that she seemed dedicated to keeping his mouth occupied with other matters.

 

When Clarke collapsed on top of him he was allowed a few blissful minutes of stroking her hair back from her temple, pressing a kiss into the sun bleached locks that were still damp with sweat and lake water, until she rolled off and curled on her side facing the opposite side of the tent. Bellamy counted it as a win that she stayed in his bed rather than retreating to the mattress that was set up for Lincoln across the room and he refrained from rolling over and spooning her against him. 

 

They lay in silence so long that Bellamy was almost sure she had fallen asleep. Neither of them were as talkative as Octavia or Jasper but neither were they as stoic as Monty and Miller and it seemed that they brought out the chatterbox in each other because it was rare that such a long silence extended between them. Bellamy almost jumped when he felt a small hand slip into his light grip and he turned his head to see Clarke turned on her back, their hands twined together between them on the mattress. Bellamy stared at the contrast in their skin tones and the way his larger hand completely engulfed hers with a sort of stupid wonder. He finally dragged his eyes back up to her face to see her looking at him steadily. 

 

It had only been a couple hours out in the sun but that had been enough to turn Clarke’s fair skin a light pink and he could see the beginning of her summer freckles spattered across the bridge of her nose. Unlike his ever present freckles Clarke’s only made an appearance after she had been out in the sun. Jasper had joked on more than one occasion that if they ever had kids they were just going to be one enormous freckle. Bellamy quickly shook that thought away because he was already feeling affectionately domestic enough having her in his bed without adding visions of blonde haired, freckled children with his eyes and her nose.

 

“Thanks for looking out for me,” she said, “You’re a pain in the butt with all your big brothering but it’s comforting to know you’ve always got my back.”

 

Bellamy felt a little twist in his gut at the big brother crack but forced himself to be content with the rest of the sentiment, it was a big deal for Clarke Griffin to admit that maybe she was stretching herself a little too thin.

 

“Yeah well if you die I’ll have to start conditioning a new best friend and I simply don’t have the time for that,” Bellamy replied, giving her hand a friendly squeeze, “Miller isn’t nearly as well read as you.”

 

Clarke laughed softly and he watched as her eyes drifted closed and her breathing leveled out. Neither of them were easy sleepers, both typically taking nearly an hour of restless tossing and turning before surrendering to sleep so the fact that she drifted off this quickly was evidence of how utterly exhausted she really was. Bellamy used his free hand to switch off the small bedside lantern and happily marveled on the fact that she had fallen asleep still holding his hand.

 

 

* * *

 

Clarke became aware of two facts in quick succession when she woke up. The first was that she was alone. Given she slept alone most (every) night it shouldn’t have struck her as unusual to wake up by herself in bed since that was the norm for her, but she was troubled to realize that somehow her body had adapted to Bellamy’s presence in mere hours of sharing a bed so that she was left feeling bereft at his absence. It was more than a little unsettling the way it had felt like belonging, drifting off to sleep next to him. The way she would startle awake, neither of them were heavy sleepers, and take comfort in his warm and solid presence. She wasn’t entirely sure given her sleep foggy brain but she had a hazy memory of waking up at one point completely wrapped in lean, tan limbs and just snuggling deeper into his embrace. Damn sleep-Clarke’s snuggling compulsion.

 

The second fact came right on the heels of the first. The quality of light that was seeping in through the seems of the tent and the fact that nothing other than his little sister’s presence would have dragged Bellamy away given his partiality for morning sex meant that Clarke had definitely overslept.

 

Despite having thanked him for the very same thing the night before Clarke stumbled out of bed cursing Bellamy Blake’s protective instincts that allowed her to sleep in. The idiot knew damn well she had a million things to do, none of which was lazing around in bed half the day. It had clearly been a conscious decision on his part too since he had left her breakfast and a change of clothes on his desk. She managed to remain indignant for another few minutes, hopping around the tent to pull her shorts up while taking distracted bites of breakfast before the fact that he had cut the apple up the way he knew she liked pierced her cloud of irritation. It was hard to stay mad when he was so casually considerate of her and in all honesty she felt a hundred percent better than she had for the past three days so maybe the extra sleep was a good idea after all.

 

Clarke shoved her way out of the tent, challenging Jones to say something with a heated glare when he was thankfully the only person to see her leaving Bellamy’s quarters. Jonesy looked to be fighting off a weirdly proud sort of smile but he just shrugged and kept walking. Everyone still seemed to be engaged in their morning chores and Clarke was grateful to see that at least she hadn’t slept into the afternoon. She shoved her feet into the dirty sneakers that served as her summer footwear, pulled her hair into a haphazard ponytail, and half-jogged over to the Ark to where she was sure her mother would be back in the airlock.

 

Abby Griffin was just pulling on her radiation suit when Clarke caught her, “Five more symptomatic,” she said grimly and Clarke felt the tension that had somewhat abandoned her over the past 12 hours settle back down on her shoulders and burrow into her joints.

 

Clarke reached for her own suit but Kane grabbed her wrist to stop her, “The quarantine isn’t enough. Go talk to Lincoln and find out what he knows. We need another option.”

 

Clarke wanted to protest but knew that they needed someone with medical training to talk with the intense Grounder. Kane could go to the meeting but he wouldn’t know what to ask the way she would. It also went without saying that she missed the younger Blake and her boyfriend and was actually looking forward to the opportunity to see them despite the circumstances.

 

She walked to the small conference room that served as a council meeting space and saw Bellamy seated at the table with his sister and Lincoln. She knew that they would all rather be out in the sun, enjoying the pretty spring day but the meeting required some level of discretion. They had been trying to keep the panic in camp over the infection to a sort of low hum and discussing details out in public wasn’t exactly the best way to maintain that. 

 

“If it isn’t Sleeping Beauty,” Bellamy teased with a fond smile, scooting the chair next to him out with his toe so she could sit down.

 

Clarke slumped into the seat, “Maybe next time Prince Charming could wake me up before noon then huh?” she chastised but he failed to look remotely intimidated. The circles under her eyes were a much less violent shade of purple and she looked more alert than she had all week which was more than enough to tell him that he had made the right decision. She looked up and saw Octavia studying her with what looked like a sort of simmering resentment and she immediately worried what she had done to upset the other girl. They still had their issues but the last time she had visited they had parted on good terms, real strides having been made to mend their friendship. This look was more in line with what she had been used to after Mt. Weather and Clarke was slightly panicked to see it return. The Blake siblings had some resemblance with their dark hair and attractive features but it was in their expressions that you could really tell they were family so it hurt Clarke on an almost visceral level to see the very Blake look of anger on Octavia’s pretty face. It meant so much to Bell that they get along and she was kicking herself for apparently fucking it up again.

 

The crooked smile had fallen off of Bellamy’s face and he was looking between the two girls with a growing sense of alarm. With everything going on the last thing he wanted to deal with was mediating another argument between his sister and his best friend. 

 

Octavia visibly composed herself and covered her judgement laden stare with a more familiar sarcastic smile, “Well this all seems… awesome.” 

 

“We’ve got it better contained than last time,” Bellamy responded, clearly having already filled the couple across from them in on the situation, “but Clarke says that the infection itself is worse. We haven’t had a single person survive yet.”

 

“Is there anything you know that could help?” Clarke asked Lincoln pleadingly. She had given up wondering what she had done to upset Octavia and was once more consumed by images from inside the quarantine room, Fallon’s empty red eyes just before the end and Sully’s desperate crying after a particularly violent fit of vomitting. “I know this is different than the strain that you use to weaken the battle field, did you alter it somehow?”

 

Lincoln grimaced. “We don’t have anything close to the technology to accomplish that,” he said honestly. “That particular weapon was the work of the mountain men. They used it on us and we just kept a sample and repurposed it for ourselves. I don’t think even the most accomplished healer in any of the clans is capable of actually engineering a virus like that.”

 

“And you have no cure for it?” Bellamy demanded, “Seems a little irresponsible to keep something like that around without any way to treat it if something goes to shit.”

 

Octavia shot her brother a reproachful glare. 

 

“There is no cure,” Lincoln asserted, looking truly apologetic.

 

“What about a vaccine?” Clarke asked desperately. “It’s simplifying it a lot, but vaccines are basically a watered down version of the disease, isn’t that in essence what you were using?”

 

“Um if I remember correctly this ‘watered down’ version had both of you on your ass looking like absolute death last time,” Octavia broke in, the sarcastic air quotes she hung around her words contradicted by the shudder that passed through her as she obviously remembered her brother throwing up blood onto her feet looking about as vulnerable as she had ever seen him.

 

“But we lived,” Clarke argued, an idea taking root, her leg bouncing excitedly while her mind raced over this new possibility.

 

“Shouldn’t anyone who got it last time be immune this time then?” Bellamy asked, laying a calm hand on her leg to steady it’s nervous movement, “Because I remember Fox projectile vomitting into someones face pretty spectacularly last time and she’s barely hanging on right now.”

 

Clarke slowed her leg and blinked a few times at him, apparently he had been listening when she rambled about what she did in the med-bay after all. He read her surprised look and sent her one back that said ‘of course I do dummy’.

 

Octavia cleared her throat and Clarke snapped back to the moment, “It would, but this could be a completely different strain. We do have the technology between what came down with the Ark and what we scavenged from Mt. Weather. Between Jackson, Monty’s parents, and a few of the other researchers from the Ark we should have someone who could make this happen.” She turned her attention entirely to Lincoln, “Do you still have a sample of the virus you used on us?”

 

It seemed almost impossible for someone as fierce and imposing as Lincoln to appear sheepish but somehow he did as he nodded in confirmation.

 

“If they could study that, see what the scientists in the Mountain did to shorten the incubation period and lessen the symptoms they could create a vaccine for this strain.”

 

“I can leave as soon as we’re done here,” Lincoln promised to Clarke and Bellamy’s grateful looks. Octavia looked half ready to protest but snapped her mouth closed. As much as it might worry her to task her lover with transporting samples of a deadly infectious disease, these were still her people and she wasn’t going to let them die because of her fear.

 

“I guess it’s settled then,” she said resolutely, “I’m going to stay and help with the quarantine here and Lincoln will be back as soon as he can.” This time it was Bellamy who looked ready to protest, he was literally going to have a nervous breakdown with two women he cared about in that airlock but Octavia’s determined glare brokered no argument.

 

Lincoln started to gather himself together, packing up his things before he had even gotten to settle in but Octavia stilled him with a hand around his wrist.

 

“Are you going to tell me when you two started sleeping together?” she asked bluntly, eyes steadily on Clarke and Bellamy, the anger from earlier boiling back to the surface with the question.

 

Clarke’s eyes widened to the whites and Bellamy ran an embarrassed hand over his face before moving it to grip the back of his neck, his skin tone wasn’t as quick to show a blush as Clarke’s fair complexion but apparently his little sister bringing up his sex life was enough to turn them both bright red.

 

Bellamy looked over to Clarke and they had another of their silent conversations in which he asked her how she wanted to play this and she left him with the distinct impression of ‘his sister, his responsibility’. 

 

“O- “ he began but she cut him off with a rather hallow laugh.

 

“Don’t bother denying it big brother,” she snorted, “Even if I hadn’t already known your faces right now would be confirmation enough.”

 

“A few weeks,” Clarke said softly. Bellamy stared at her openly, torn between elation that she was finally claiming him in public and panic over the broken quality of the admission. Having his friends and family know about them wasn’t worth it if it meant she was going to pull away.

 

“You don’t even live here,” Bellamy said, narrowing his eyes at his sister, “how the hell did you know?”

 

“I know that there’s a deadly virus infecting our people _again_ but your obvious ass is walking around with the biggest, goofiest smile on your face. I also know that you are a possessive idiot and Clarke has a hickey the size of the Ark on her neck,” Octavia ticked off on her fingers, pinning the couple in front of her with a shrewd look, “Plus Raven told me.”

 

Clarke couldn’t help but growl out, “I fucking told you she knew,” and Bellamy shrugged helplessly.

 

“Does everyone know?” Clarke asked, shifting uncomfortably under Octavia’s scrutiny.

 

“Probably,” Octavia said simply, “But to be fair most of them thought you were fucking before you actually were. There was a pool.”

 

“Enough,” Bellamy snapped and Clarke could hear the beginnings of a full out Blake-brawl in his tone, “It’s adorable that you’re suddenly taking an interest in my personal life O but there is a line and you are more than toeing it.”

 

“Why sneak around?” Octavia asked somewhat accusingly, “You’re both single, so what’s the problem?” The question was posed to both of them but Clarke knew who Octavia meant it for.

 

Clarke tried desperately to suppress a flare of anger at the implication in Octavia’s question. They were not at a place in their relationship yet where she could afford to get into a fight with the other girl. 

 

It was a constant torment to her that Bellamy might see her desire for secrecy as embarrassment over what they were doing. She felt like she was waging a war between trying to disavow him of this definitely wrong impression and trying to avoid a serious conversation about exactly what they _were_ doing. The lies they told their friends hurt her too and the vague illusions he made to his suspicions that he just wasn’t good enough for her were infinitely worse. Obviously he was not the only one making these incorrect assumptions.

 

“It could be, I don’t know, to try and avoid input from our nosy fucking friends,” Bellamy snapped and Octavia was only subdued from responding with similar acid by Lincoln’s warning hand on her shoulder. The beautiful warrior in front of her was a far cry from the precocious and whimsical girl who had set foot off the dropship two years ago and while she still had the fiery Blake temper the thoughtful hulk of a man at her side had done a lot to quell her past recklessness. He knew that she didn’t want to burn bridges with her brother so he stepped in to save her that heartache. Clarke couldn’t help but feel a throb of familiarity over the way she and Bellamy balanced each other out.

 

“I should go,” Lincoln said, diffusing some of the tension, “If I leave now I can make it back tomorrow.” 

 

Clarke became very engrossed in her cuticles while Lincoln warned Octavia to be careful in the airlock and she wished him safe passage and pressed a tense but affectionate kiss to his mouth. She felt Bellamy bristle next to her and even in her current state of agitation she couldn’t help roll her eyes at his continued discomfort around his sister’s boyfriend. She bumped her shoulder with his as they stood to wish Lincoln well and thanked him for his help.

 

“So, let’s kick this virus’ ass again huh?” Octavia sarcastically enthused as soon as Lincoln had disappeared beyond the fence and into the line of trees outside Arkadia.

 

“Cute,” Bellamy sniffed, but Clarke could see that a lot of the animosity had left him once the conversation had moved on from her awkward confrontation of their relationship. Clarke, unfortunately, couldn’t be as easily distracted, and based on the looks Octavia was shooting her, neither could she.

 

Clarke made a move to leave the siblings to catch up but Octavia quickly shot down that idea as she demanded to join her in the quarantine. She had gotten some training from Clarke early on at the dropship and had only gained more medical knowledge from the grounder healers, she would be more help in with the sick than out hauling wood with Bellamy on cabin duty. Her brother grudgingly acknowledged this and left both women with a worried kiss to their foreheads and a promise that he would be checking in regularly.

 

“Possessive and overly protective,” Octavia teased, sticking her tongue out at his retreating back after he flicked her on the nose.

 

Clarke braced herself for the interrogation she knew was coming and her fears were confirmed when the brunette turned back to her, the teasing smile dropping completely from her pretty face.

 

“When you hurt him, you and I are going to have a problem,” she said and Clarke had a panicked moment when she wondered when exactly Octavia had gotten so fucking terrifying and then she flashed to a similar warning from her brother years ago with the same deadly threat hanging over their heads.

 

It then occurred to her that Octavia hadn’t said ‘if’ but rather ‘when’ as if it was a forgone conclusion that she was going to hurt Bellamy, an assumption that didn’t sit well with Clarke but she was at a complete loss for what to say.

 

“Bellamy is my best friend Octavia, the last thing I want to do is hurt him,” she finally replied, the most honest answer she was currently capable of. 

 

“Then you should really cut the crap Clarke,” she said bluntly, “because that is exactly where this is headed. We can spend the next five hours in that airlock together with you telling me what a good _friend_ he is and how much you _care_ but I’d really rather you just owned your shit because I fucking hate pretenses.”

 

“He is my friend-“ Clarke began but Octavia stopped dead in her tracks in their trek back to the Ark and Clarke’s voice died in her throat at the furious glare on her face.

 

“I get that’s your line to make this somehow okay in your head but please spare me the friends with benefits cover story. I have no idea where your head’s at Clarke, I never have been able to tell with you, but I know my brother better than anything.”

 

Clarke had a ridiculously childish impulse to cover her ears and scream for her to stop, it was like each word out of Octavia’s mouth was taking a sledgehammer to her and Bellamy’s playful and sexy memories from the past three weeks. 

 

“Everyone in the camp knows that Bellamy has been head over heels in love with you since the dropship _Princess_. I’m pretty sure he’s even figured it out for himself by now,” Octavia said, delivering the final killing blow.

 

It should have been telling that the first thing Clarke felt at having this laid so bare in front of her for the first time was a warm affection and a sort of happy wonderment that the complicated beauty of a man that was Bellamy Blake was in love with her. Quickly replacing it though was the familiar drowning fear at the prospect of losing her person. It wasn’t rational, that immediate jump from love to loss, but it was all that she had experienced in her almost twenty years of life and it was all encompassing.

 

“Bell has been through enough,” Octavia had continued and Clarke couldn’t help but agree on this new point wholeheartedly, “he deserves to be happy and he deserves to be loved. So if you’re going to keep pretending that you’re too broken to give that to him you need to back the fuck off so he can find someone who deserves him.”

 

_Please, I’m scared_. Clarke wanted to shout into Octavia’s reproachful face but instead for some reason she just heard herself quietly say, “You’re right.”

 

Octavia’s expression softened slightly and her hand twitched towards Clarke’s like she considered reaching out but ultimately decided against it, “I wish it could’ve been you,” she said and the tears that Clarke had just barely been holding back started to fall silently down her cheeks at that.

 

“Not because I think you’re good enough for him,” Octavia continued, but there was no malice towards Clarke just utter affection for her big brother, “but because I know you’re who he wants.”

 

Clarke pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes to try and stem the flow of tears which were still falling without a sound. She could do this. Better to see Bellamy happy in a relationship with someone else and still have him as her closest friend than to lose him to jealousy or bitterness or any of those other petty difficulties that accompanied love. Deep down she knew that wouldn’t be what it was with them though, the tacit connection between them, the utter respect and dedication they had for one another would prevent any of those things from coming between them. No, Bellamy loved with everything he was and she knew she was much more likely to lose him doing something stupidly heroic, that he would sacrifice himself for her if it was ever asked and that was the idea that ruined her.

 

“I’m sorry O,” she said wretchedly, using the bottom of her t-shirt to dry her face. She wasn’t sure what she was apologizing for. For potentially breaking her brother, for not being good enough, for TonDC, for letting their people get taken by the Mountain Men, for torturing Lincoln, for every terrible thing the other girl had every right to hold against her.

 

“Yeah me too Clarke,” Octavia said and this time there was none of the hardness or judgment but a genuine sadness.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Shannon. Parker. Terra.

 

Clarke was pretty sure she would be adding Fox to the list before she went to bed tonight. The slim girl was putting up a hell of a fight but she had slipped into a coma just before Jackson had come in to relieve her for the evening. 

 

In addition to the three (soon to be four) new graves that were going to be dug, four of the non-symptomatic patients had been transferred to the other side which was feeling more and more like a holding place for the condemned, just waiting out the couple brutal days of symptoms to die. 

 

Clarke stumbled out of the decontamination room, wet and drained, it felt like her carefree evening with her friends had been a lifetime ago rather than a short 24 hours. She immediately saw Bellamy at his post outside the airlock and her heart dropped even further. 

 

Octavia had spent several hours in the quarantine with her, providing basic supportive care to those who were dying and just spending time with the exposed on the other side of the barrier helping to get their minds off the fact that they were just counting down the time until they joined their friends in the process of bleeding out. Clarke almost hated that side of the quarantine more. The now twenty odd people in the airlock alternated between a frenzied panic and a kind of bitter hope and to say the atmosphere in there was tense was the understatement of the century. She had stayed several hours longer than the younger Blake sibling but she had seen both of them sitting outside the airlock, their mouths moving in a conversation she couldn’t hear until she had walked over to decon at which point Octavia had clearly found somewhere else to be. 

 

“O’s grabbing dinner and heading to the bonfire with Jasper,” Bellamy told her as if he was reading her mind. 

 

Clarke could feel the full weight of his attention on her and she couldn’t help but meet his steady brown eyes. Bellamy sighed heavily and pulled her into a strong embrace. This had been more or less the routine for the past four days but today Clarke needed this more than any other and it was obvious he knew it. Four dead, Fox barely clinging to life, this was the day that threatened to break her. She had been emotionally drained before she even went in there and the past 9 hours had done nothing but exponentially compound that condition.

 

Bellamy’s long arms almost circled back around to her front again when he wrapped her up like this and he was running his hands up and down her arms and side, comforting whispers drowning in her wet hair. Bellamy craned his neck back slightly without releasing her from the embrace to press a kiss to her hairline and look down into her face again.

 

Clarke felt a hard stab of guilt at what she saw in those deep brown eyes and she began to slowly pull away from his strong arms. He would never be able to date someone with her around like this. This sort of profound intimacy the two of them shared would be enough to chase even the most zealous suitor away from both of them. It seemed so absurd to even be thinking about dating and relationships with everything that was going on but she hadn’t been able to shake Octavia’s words all day. 

 

Bellamy was a protector and the way he loved his sister and all their friends, Clarke knew he found real solace in personal relationships. This man deserved to be with someone who was free enough to be in a real relationship with him. 

 

Clarke didn’t know if Octavia was right about Bellamy’s feelings for her. She saw a hint of confirmation in the way he had just been looking at her and there were tender moments when they were together when he would open his mouth to say something and just stop and she always wondered if there wasn’t a confession on the tip of that tongue, but she couldn’t claim to know what was going on in his complicated head (or heart). 

 

What she did know was that there was no hope of him finding that with anyone else when she was the perfect surrogate relationship for him. Best friends will share things that sometimes don’t even come out to a significant other and when you added in all of the spectacular fucking they were doing, he really didn’t have any reason to go looking anywhere else.

 

It wasn’t fair for her to trap him in this forcibly platonic relationship when he was worthy of so much more.

 

They walked side by side to the kitchen and then out to the bonfire, dinner in hand as she filled him in on the rapidly rising body count and everything else from the quarantine but Clarke was still very distracted from this new light having been shined on their relationship. 

 

Their life on Earth by no means ran on any sort of regular schedule with a five day work week since hunting, building, and general survival was a 24/7 job, but for some reason they had all seemed to adopt the weekend as the time to cut lose. Despite the ever looming specter of the virus (or maybe more so because of) this Saturday was no different. It wasn’t even close to the raucous celebration the week before to celebrate two years on the ground, but the alcohol was still flowing and soft music played nearby. 

 

They had lapsed into a brief silence while Bellamy contemplated the dried meat on his plate and Clarke scanned the assembly for their friends. As soon as she located Jasper at his post by the alcohol she also found her gaze catching with Octavia’s where she stood catching up with the rest of the group. The anger was still missing but no longer was her look sad but rather openly expectant.

 

“Don’t you want to be in a relationship?” Clarke blurted and Bellamy paused literally mid-bite. It might have been comical, the way his eyebrows disappeared into the soft brush of curls over his forehead, his eyes shocked and wide as he pulled his mouth away and spit the partially chewed bite onto his plate like it had burned him, if she wasn’t literally nauseous with anxiety.

 

“Come again?” Bellamy said.

 

Clarke wanted to scream. She wanted to toss her dinner plate into the fire, kick the log she was sitting on, and run until her legs gave out when she saw the faint glint of what could only be hope on his handsome face. 

 

“I just,” Clarke started, grasping desperately for words she didn’t even really want to say, “I’ve just been feeling a little guilty thinking that maybe _this_ is keeping you from finding a relationship with someone when you really want one.”

 

The way the spark of hope was erased in a second and replaced with a raw dread made the back of her eyes ache with unshed tears. This fucking hurt.

 

“What did she say to you?” Bellamy asked tensely, his eyes darting between searching the crowd for his sister and Clarke, “She tried that shit with me too, she has no idea what she is talking about Princess. O is a 19 year old girl who thinks she knows everything there is to know about relationships because she stumbled into what she thinks is some fucking fairytale. A year with Lincoln certainly doesn’t make her an expert on anything much less the two of us.”

 

“She is kind of an expert on you though,” Clarke said softly, “And I think we both know she isn’t just some silly girl caught up in her own Romeo and Juliet story anymore.”

 

“I’m going to make a bold statement here and say that I’m probably the leading expert on me and I’m telling you that I’m happy and don’t need my little sister fucking meddling in it, which is exactly what I said to her,” Bellamy shot back.

 

“You’re 25, don’t you want to find someone to make a life with down here?” Clarke asked and she knew she was grasping. 

 

“You’re pulling the age card?” Bellamy scoffed, “Points for trying to break up with me creatively this time at least.”

 

“We were friends before anything else and we will be friends after,” Clarke said, finding some of her resolve again at his reference to a break up. They couldn’t have the kind of relationship in which a break up was an option, “I can’t lose you.”

 

“Clarke, please,” Bellamy pleaded. Between the use of her real name and the despair in his voice and eyes Clarke could feel her heart breaking. “Please don’t do this.”

 

“I need you to understand,” Clarke said, similarly pleading, “I’m doing this to protect us. We never should have taken this risk in the first place.”

 

Bellamy’s eyes turned skyward as if in supplication to a god she knew for a fact neither of them believed in and he was silent for an agonizing minute.

 

“Fuck, Clarke,” he finally breathed, “There is nothing in this world that can change the way I feel about you so I am going to do whatever I can to be okay with this. But right now is not that time.”

 

Clarke bowed her head guiltily, feeling more than a little shame over the raw emotion in his statement. Not only was a cooling off period probably more than a little necessary she understood the betrayal he felt and, as much as it hurt, was willing to give him the time he needed to deal with that. 

 

The ghost of the romantic in her, who had been stomped out since before Earth even, back when her father was executed, was nagging her to reach out and grab his arm and demand to hear exactly how he did ‘feel about’ her and to tell him she was hurting just as bad as he was right now, but she tamped down on the impulse.

 

Bellamy stared at her and for the first time in a very long time Clarke was completely at a loss as to what her partner was thinking. That line of unspoken communication was severed and Clarke just wished with everything she was that it would prove to be only temporary. Finally he sniffed, his nostrils flaring in a very familiar gesture of frustration and annoyance and he turned on his heel, striding away from her.

 

“Bell,” she called, her voice an embarrassing croak around the thick coat of tears in her throat, “What are you doing?” 

 

She trusted him more than she even trusted herself at this point but the look on his face was more than a little reminiscent of ‘whatever the hell we want’.

 

“Taking your advice Princess.” Was Bellamy’s final parting shot over his shoulder as he strode purposefully over to a group of girls a few yards away. 

 

Clarke felt every chaotic emotion that had been roiling through her for the length of the conversation instantly drain out and her legs seemed to go along with them. She was lucky to be next to one of the log seats around the campfire and she sat down hard on the sanded wood. The numbness started to dissolve into a clawing emptiness in her chest the longer she sat alone. 

 

She raised her eyes a few times to watch Bellamy charming a rather impressive number of young women from the Ark with his bright smile but forced herself to look away in shame over the twinge of satisfaction she felt that the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. ‘Not that they’d know the difference.’ She thought meanly and again felt sick over her possessiveness. Isn’t that exactly what she had just broken both of their hearts to forfeit?

 

“Do you want me to take him out for you?”

 

Raven sat on the log next to her, nudging her over to create more room, and knocking her shoulder against Clarke’s. 

 

“I’m pretty devious, it would totally look like an accident.”

For the first time since her conversation with Octavia that morning Clarke felt for a moment that things might not actually be the fucking worst ever and she gave her friend a grateful but shaky smile.

 

“I think we should let him have this one,” Clarke responded, unable to keep her eyes from drifting back up to watch Bellamy throw a casual arm around Mel’s shoulder, the petite girl beaming up at him adoringly. 

 

“You ended things.” It sounded like it should be a question but nothing in Raven’s tone indicated such. 

 

Clarke surprised herself by not feeling the need to interrogate her over how exactly she knew about ‘things’ in the first place or to vehemently defend the fact that there wasn’t something to end. Instead she just shrugged and chewed at her bottom lip, moving her eyes back to the ground in front of her.

 

“Over something stupidly noble like ‘the good of the group’ or protecting his dumbass I’m sure,” Raven continued.

 

“Pretty much,” Clarke sighed, dropping her head sideways onto Raven’s shoulder.

 

Raven wound an arm around her waist and Clarke felt the other girl’s cheek through her thick mess of curls as she tipped her own head to the side.

 

“You are a fucking idiot,” she said but it was spoken with nothing but sad affection. 

 

“Yeah,” Clarke agreed on an exhale.

 

“I’m at least going to have a word with him about his ‘make Clarke jealous’ game. This is totally fucking obvious, he’s embarrassing me,” Raven whined, gesturing toward him and Mel, “It doesn’t really work when the girl in question has been following you around like a stalkery, eye fluttery, shadow for almost a year and you have done nothing but bitch and moan about the inconvenience of it all. Oh woe is Bellamy for being born with such beautiful bone structure and muscle tone.” 

 

Clarke snorted and the pair sat in companionable silence, Raven offering comfort and Clarke accepting it from pretty much the only person she was comfortable getting it from outside of the person she had just coldly pushed away.

 

She could feel the emotional weight of the day along with the sheer physical exhaustion of working painfully long shifts in a constricting old radiation suit catching up to her and her eyes were beginning to droop when there was a flurry of commotion across from them.

 

Raven was immediately at alert, her back rigid and eyes searching the growing dark for a sign of the cause and Clarke was stumbling to her feet almost as quickly.

 

The initial rumble was growing into something much larger and more panicked and Clarke had to shove her way through a crowd to its source. Bellamy had reached the scene much earlier having already been on the other side of the fire. 

 

One of the delinquents from the dropship, Clarke knew his name was Devon but sadly not much more than that, had slumped bonelessly to the ground, Bellamy having clearly caught him mid-fall since his arm was pinned under his dead weight as he knelt next to the teenager.

 

“What happened?” Clarke asked, hoping against hope that this was just a drunken face plant being misinterpreted but knowing that the pallor of his skin spoke to a more sinister cause. 

 

“He said he was feeling dizzy and then he just fell,” Mel said through a terrified sob and Clarke spared the girl a quick glance. Now was about the farthest thing possible from the time for jealousy but she really wished the other girl would just….. go away.

 

“Bellamy he might be sick you can’t touch him like that without a suit,” Raven said her tone deceptively neutral, clearly trying to be the voice of calm in an escalating situation. 

 

Clarke considered trying to establish some sort of perimeter but her mind was completely occupied by Bellamy’s current position. She was opening her mouth to either start barking orders or potentially burst into tears when Devon spasmed his way back into consciousness.

 

Bellamy’s attention was fixed intently on the shuddering figure still half in his arms and he inexplicably leaned closer when the boy opened his mouth to speak. Rather than the explanation or the plea for help that was likely intended his body was suddenly wracked with a fit of coughing.

 

There were movies on the Ark and Clarke, being in the privileged class, had plenty of access to whatever genre she wanted so she was familiar with the sort of dread you felt at that point in a horror movie when the pretty protagonist was about to be skewered, and while you saw it coming could do nothing to warn them. She wasn’t familiar, however, with how overwhelming and painful that moment was when the horror movie was your life and the protagonist the man you were probably falling in love with.

 

The first few coughs were deep but dry and unfortunately not enough warning for the coughing that followed which was accompanied by bloody mist of aerialized infection which became a full spray before the fit stopped mere seconds later.

 

An utter silence had fallen over the assembled crowd to the point where Clarke had the momentary mad thought that she might have gone deaf before she became aware of the harsh breathing from both Bellamy and the boy at his feet. Sometime in the past few seconds he had managed to free his arm from underneath the boy and stand and Clarke was facing down a pair of horrified brown eyes.

 

If not for the complete terror in his eyes Clarke thought he might be able to fool someone with the sardonic half smile on his face. The whole disaffected act didn’t really fly either though when his face was wet with blood to the point where it was trickling down his cheekbones to drip on his t-shirt.

 

“Two week incubation huh?” he asked and if Clarke’s heart hadn’t broken earlier it certainly was now, “Guess we better start that countdown Princess.”

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TBC… Reviews are my favorite! Thank you so much to everyone who has taken the time already and for all the kind kudos!
> 
>  
> 
> Come tumble around with me on tumblr under the same name!


	6. Crash Into Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy's in quarantine and Clarke makes a move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please see the end for groveling and effusive thanks.

* * *

You ’ ve got your ball

You ’ ve got your chain

Tied to me tight tie me up again

Who ’ s got their claws

In you my friend

Into your heart I ’ ll be again

Sweet like candy to my soul

Sweet you rock

And sweet you roll

Lost for you I ’ m so lost for you

You come crash into me

And I come into you

Crash Into Me- Dave Matthews Band

* * *

 

 

Bellamy Blake had two occasions in his life when he had been forced to consider that he might be losing his mind.

 

The first had come a week after Octavia had been discovered and consequently thrown in the Skybox, and almost three days to the moment that his mother had been floated for the crime of having a second child.

 

Bellamy hadn ’ t had time to breathe, much less grieve for his executed mother and imprisoned sister. The Ark required constant attention from its working class citizens so the second the seemingly endless interrogations had finished and he had been cleared to return to his quarters (alone) Bellamy had been expected at his new janitorial post. There was probably something to be said, on a psychological level, of the numbness he felt, of the completely mindless way he went through each day, cleaning up behind citizens of the Ark who hadn ’ t just had their entire lives stripped away from them.

 

A calendar would have told him that it had been a week, but for all that he was aware of the passage of time it could ’ ve been a minute or a year, as he stood in front of the small mirror above the sink in the Blake ’ s spartan bathroom. He became conscious of the fact that he was staring at his reflection, though he didn' t know how long it had been or even what he had been doing in the bathroom.

 

For the first time since everything happened he felt somewhat present in the moment and he stared fixedly at his face in the glass. It was the same familiar brown eyes and dark hair he always saw. The same freckles sprayed across his nose and cheekbones and the same dimple in his chin and yet there was a stranger staring back at him. This was a man who didn ’ t have a sister, a janitor instead of a promising cadet in the Guard, a man who carried the responsibility for his mother ’ s death on his conscience. Bellamy hated the man who was wearing his face.

 

His eyes caught on the small scar bisecting the left upper lip in the reflection and despite a full week of detached numbness, and likely purposeful avoidance of any memory of the person he was before his life fell apart, he couldn ’ t help but think about the little girl who was the cause of that scar.

All things considered Octavia coped with her isolation remarkably well. It could have been because she never knew anything else, but he and his mother liked to tell her that it was because Blake toughness was a dominant trait. 

 

Other prominent Blake traits were stubbornness and a fiery temper, unfortunately, so her typical brave acceptance of her situation was punctuated by flares of resentful ill temper of which Bellamy and his mother were forced to be the sole recipients. Bellamy was already aware of the low current of restlessness radiating from his sister that morning, just a few days after her ninth birthday, and knew to brace himself the second he heard the thunder of children ’ s feet past their door, their excited shouts accompanying whatever game they were playing audible in their living room.

 

Octavia ’ s face clouded over and thinking back, Bellamy saw some of the fierce woman she would become in that angry little girl, as she launched into a whisper-shouted rant about the unfairness that was her life.

 

‘You through?’ he had asked, pretty insensitive in retrospect but 15 year old boys were not well known for their empathy.

 

Octavia had stared at him in mute fury before sending their mother ’ s sewing box flying. For a girl raised under the floor she had a decent arm and the sharp corner of the box clipped her brother directly in his smart mouth. Her look quickly transformed into one of open mouthed shock as Bellamy clamped a hand to his face, swearing profusely, an alarming amount of blood dripping through his fingers.

 

Dr. Griffin ended up putting 8 stitches in his lip that he ‘tripped and split against the edge of a desk’ and he was left with a noticeable scar breaking up his otherwise symmetrical face. Bellamy had kept up the pretense of being mad at Octavia for all of about an hour before ruffling her hair and accepting her teary apologies. He was of the mind that the scar kinda made him look like a badass and though he would never admit it, because it was just about the sappiest fucking thought he had ever had, he liked being able to walk out into public in the Ark with a reminder of his little sister right there on his face.

 

The scar now mocked him from his own reflection, forcing him to think about the spirited girl that had been the cause of it, his sister who had been so full of imagination and life no matter her shitty circumstances, who was now locked in a cell, wasting away until her inevitable execution. Bellamy stared at the white line of scar tissue for another few seconds as the remainder of the traumatized numbness burned away and he started to feel the helpless devastation that had been present just below the surface.

 

His fist came away bloody, the small bathroom mirror shattered and askew, and he both heard and felt the tortured sobs that fought their way out of him. No corner of their small apartment was safe from his destructive rampage and he was left standing rather aimlessly in the middle of the mess within a few minutes, looking frantically for something else to break. He had the crushing sense that when he ran out of things to destroy in his physical space, it was going to be his mind that fell apart. He didn ’ t have a clear memory of what snapped him out of it, but he had woken up in the middle of the night surrounded by the mess, with a gaping loneliness in his chest but in much stronger possession of his senses.

 

 

The second time occurred when he woke up in the cage in the catacombs of Mt. Weather. He had felt it creeping up on him as he watched the needle sink into Lincoln ’ s neck and their hastily constructed plan fell apart before it had even really begun. It set in for real when he swam back into consciousness, muzzy headed and aching, and all he saw the metal hatching of the cage around him.

It had been a significantly shorter episode, for which he had the Grounder in the cage next to him to thank, but the sense of unraveling had been the same. He thought about his friends on the floors above, about everyone who was counting on him while he had gotten his worthless ass locked up. The impending dread that had set in just before he was knocked out bubbled to the surface and sent his mind into a white haze as he rattled the sides of the cage and shouted ineffectually.

If he was the kind of man who considered such things, it might have occurred to him that having two such occasions already in a mere 25 years of life was pretty fucking unfair. For all of his love of mythology and stories though, he really wasn ’ t a believer in fate, and fair wasn ’ t really a factor in a world of randomness and chance.

 

It didn ’ t help that there wasn ’ t much time for that kind of introspection when he was pretty sure he was facing down the third such moment of insanity at that very moment.

 

It had been almost a week since he had been exposed to the virus and he had spent everyday since trapped in his tent.

He remembered vividly the minutes after Devon had coughed the infectious blood in his face; the slickness of it trickling down his cheeks, the burn of it in his eyes, and the metallic tang of it on his tongue. He remembered making some sort of snarky remark that had snapped Clarke out of the absolute trance she had seemed to be in. He was surrounded by people but his field of perception had narrowed completely to her in the aftermath.

She had let out a strangled moan and he could see a look of horror on her face, but she jumped into action in spite of her obvious distress. She grabbed hem of his t-shirt and dragged him out of the crowd, seeming completely ignorant of the frenzied activity of everyone else. Raven had followed close behind, maintaining a strong guard at their back so anyone who considered questioning their intentions was met with the unyielding Reyes wrath. Clarke had led him directly to his tent and shoved him inside against his sputtered protests about the quarantine.

 

“ I’ve got it handled. ” she had insisted, her eyes pleading with him to listen as she zipped the tent in his face,  “ It’ll be better for you here, you don’t want to go in there Bellamy. ”

She was right of course. He would much rather be in his own space, with the random assortment of possessions he had acquired over the past year, his books and his music, than sealed in that airlock with the rest of the damned. He had spent enough time sitting watch outside the door, waiting for Clarke to emerge, and was well acquainted with the haunted look everyone in the quarantine eventually took on. It wasn ’ t something he thought he could surround himself with and keep his own sanity, but the fact was that no matter how much he had spit and wiped at his eyes, it was incredibly likely he was one of them now. A patient tasked with counting down their own days until their bloody and painful end, and it wasn ’ t in the best interest of the camp to have him isolated by nothing more than four thin walls of nylon.

Being captive in the tent left him with a good deal of time to eavesdrop on conversations occurring outside and he quickly learned that Clarke had in fact  ‘ handled it ’ and he was allowed to stay in his tent until he became symptomatic. He heard that there had been a pretty epic blow up between the elder Griffin and her daughter, but between Clarke’s ultimatums and the support from the remainder of the 100, who still viewed Bellamy as their leader, there hadn’t been much of a contest as to where he would stay. The majority of camp was avoiding the area of his isolation like the plague (of course) but he was graced with a fairly consistent stream of visitors, something he wouldn’t have had in the airlock, so he was very grateful for whatever negotiations had allowed for his placement.

It was so reminiscent of the way his friends had stopped by to keep him company during his vigils outside the airlock, but the tone was so markedly different he felt a sense of dreadful irony over the whole situation.

Some of his guests were more welcome than others but each of them provided their own brand of distraction from the toxic loneliness of his tent.

Jasper and Harper were easily the worst. Both of them would start out with the best of intentions, Harper was full of kind words and news about camp and Jasper would spill disjointed jokes that were unfortunately robbed of humor by the anxiety in his voice, but both of them would ultimately dissolve into very obvious tears within minutes. He appreciated how much they cared, but Bellamy also couldn’t help but feel that  ‘the one about the mouse fucking the elephant’ was ruined when the narrator sobbed their way through the punchline.

Murphy stopped by to tell him that  ‘this was what happened when you had to be the goddamned hero all the time’ but that, and the rest of his taunting, lost a lot of its venom to the broken quality of his voice.

Raven might have been his most frequent visitor, sometimes bringing Wick along but most of the time coming alone. She would sit a yard away from the tent and toss pebbles from the ground around her at the wall as if to reassure him she was there. The soft swish of rocks against the fabric punctuated angry rants about whatever the  ‘godawful fucking adults’ were up to,  illicit gossip about everyone and anyone that he had no idea how she knew, and long rambling monologs on chemistry and mechanics that might as well have been another language, but that he loved all the same. She didn’t cry like the others but neither was her voice completely normal, and as much as he tried to lose himself in her recitations of the periodic table, every word held an audible tension that reminded him of what exactly she was upset about.

Monty and Miller were eerily similar in their style of comfort. Miller slumped to the ground right outside the tent so his profile was a visible shadow through it and Bellamy could see him snatch the ever present beanie off his head and wring it in his hands in agitation. Eventually his hands stilled and he replaced the beanie,  ‘Well this fucking sucks man.’ he said with complete honesty. Bellamy had let out a bark of laughter, agreed, and Miller had spent the remainder of his visits with a little mild conversation, but mostly just providing companionable silence and a listening ear when he needed it.

Monty spent visits in similar silence, but his initial greeting was more characteristic of his sweet temperament than Miller’s gruff vulgarity.  ‘I’m so sorry Bellamy. I love you.’ It was the only time Bellamy had felt the threat of tears since Clarke had zipped him in the tent. Both men seemed to sense that there wasn’t anything they could say to distract him or make things better, but they still came and provided comfort with their quiet presence.

And then there were his girls. There probably weren' t two less likely women on the entire planet to warrant the possessive term than Octavia and Clarke with all of their fierce independence, but he only meant it in the sense that they were his in the same way he was theirs. He would kill for any of his people if it meant keeping them safe, but there were darker things than killing even, and there wasn ’ t a thing in the universe he wouldn ’ t do for either woman.

They were a study in contrasts to look at, Octavia with her smooth curtain of dark hair was all sharp angles while Clarke was the storybook Princess with her blonde curls, blue eyes, and soft curves. They had seemed similarly divergent in their behavior when visiting him.

Octavia began each visit with angry pacing and yelling; at him, at every other person in camp, at the world in whole. She was mad at him for not being more careful with his own health, she was mad at the leaders at camp for not keeping the virus better contained, and she was mad at random strangers around camp for having something smart to say about his deferential treatment. All of this would come spilling out in an unfiltered stream of vitriol without any seeming coherence, just whatever angry thought popped into her head was vomited out in a manner that might have horrified him coming from his baby sister in other circumstances. Eventually though, she would find herself purged of the anger, and the pacing would slow and then stop and she would slump against the tent so they could sit back to back; then they would talk about before. It wasn ’ t like they had the most idyllic childhood on the Ark, but the Blakes had always had each other and there were more than enough happy memories to relive as they pressed their backs together through the tent.

Clarke came to him completely devoid of the passionate emotion that Octavia was all but exploding with and he might have been hurt by the seeming coldness if he hadn ’ t known her so well. She would always immediately sit down crossed legged, facing the side wall of his tent, so close that her knees brushed the material and her figure was clearly outlined when the sun was positioned correctly. He could imagine she was looking straight ahead as if they didn ’ t have a layer of cloth between them and she could actually look into his eyes. She always started by filling him in on how the vaccine was going, any progress, positive or negative, with a scientific objectiveness.

 

After the daily updates she would either ask him to read to her or she would pull out a book herself and begin to read aloud. It almost broke his heart how well she knew him in this respect. That, even more than his sister, who did a passable job as she talked about shared memories, Clarke knew what would distract him and give him a minute to think of himself as something other than the guy dying in his tent. If he hadn ’ t already been stupid in love with her he would definitely have been a goner over this.

 

For all of the time everyone had spent over the past week to make sure he wasn ’ t crazy or depressed, he still had moments when he found himself alone as he was just then. Most of the time he could distract himself with a book, often reading aloud because his head was such a dangerous place to be lately. Or with music, singing along to the tune in his headphones, drying out battery after battery. It was impossible though for it not to sometimes catch up to him, why he was alone in this tent, and what was still to come, and he was scared out of his fucking mind.

Bellamy stood in the middle of his tent, trying to take deep breaths and testing every other bullshit relaxation tactic he had ever heard of, but he could feel that familiar insanity settling into his conscious, the panic that set him to tearing apart the apartment he had once shared with his family and rattling the bars of a too-small cage. The reality that he was probably going to die in a week in and half, was suddenly the only thing his mind could catch on. He tried desperately to think about anything else, his favorite myths, listing roman generals in chronological order, the clear green of Octavia ’ s eyes, the sound of Clarke's laugh, but it kept coming back to that single terrifying fact.

He looked wildly around the tent, the destructive need to break something before the thing that shattered was his own sanity, was quickly starting to outweigh the rational knowledge that it was a terrible idea to trash the small square footage he was trapped in for the foreseeable future. He was clenching his hands into fists to the point that his ragged fingernails were drawing blood on his palms, and focusing everything in his quickly unraveling psyche on remembering that perfect afternoon with Clarke a few weeks ago, chasing her around camp with the homemade sprinkler, reveling in a moment of silliness before everything had gone to shit.

Just as the Bellamy in his painstakingly reconstructed memory began to cough, blood running down his face, he heard his name outside the tent.

Clarke ’ s familiar profile settled in her typical cross-legged position, the setting sun at the perfect angle to throw her shadow against the side of the tent in even greater relief than usual, as she launched into an account an apparent break-through Jackson had in the lab earlier today without waiting for a response from him.

Clarke spoke excitedly about protein coats and RNA sequences and Bellamy felt the crazy tension that had been coiling around his brain like some deranged constrictor start to loosen. Clarke ’ s raspy voice surrounded him as he slowly loosened his fists and his breathing began to level out.

It wasn ’ t like having Clarke near erased the horrible reality that he could be dying, but her presence seemed to bring some sort of stability that was lacking whenever she wasn ’ t around. Everything was still totally fucked but with his partner at his side he almost thought he could face it. Bellamy dropped to the ground just on the other side from her seat and listened.

* * *

Clarke had no idea what time it was when she left her seat outside of Bellamy ’ s tent to head to her own for at least a few hours of sleep before she was expected back in the airlock.

Where those shifts had been painful and depressing before, they were now nothing short of torture. She tried her best to view everything through the clinical eye her training had instructed her to, but she couldn ’ t help seeing Bellamy ’ s face on each new patient; imagining the dark blood smeared across his sharp cheekbones and olive skin, seeing his soulful brown eyes fixed and red just before the patient went comatose. Each hour she was stuck there was also time that she felt slipping away from his countdown, wasted seconds that she wasn ’ t able to spend with him.

Duty to her people had once lead her to linger after her shift was over, trying to sneak back in to help after she had been relieved, but now she was tearing off the quarantine suit the second she was able, stopping by the hastily assembled lab where any and all biologists and chemists from the Ark were working tirelessly with the sample Lincoln had brought back in an infected rodent so she had some updates when she rushed to Bellamy' s tent immediately after.

It had been no small feat to keep her mother, Marcus, and numerous other determined adults from suiting up and dragging Bellamy to the airlock, and Clarke might have wondered if she had  burned a few bridges permanently in the fight if she could be bothered to give a shit. She was eternally grateful to the teens and young adults that had taken her side and kept watch over the tent to be sure no one went behind her back while she fought that battle of wills with Abby. She had spent more than enough time in that horrid airlock and there wasn ’ t a single atom of her being that could subject Bellamy to that.

 

‘He’s no different than any of the others Clarke,’ she had stated to Clarke’s rising ire.

 

‘Of course he fucking is!’ Clarke had screamed, quickly abandoning the quiet serious tone that her mother had taken for one that more accurately conveyed her fury at such an insult,  We are all alive because of him. While you and everyone else who was supposedly in charge here sat around with your thumbs up your asses Bellamy was risking his life for us. That should be more than enough to distinguish him, never mind everything the two of us had to do when you all sent us down here to die in the first place.’

 

‘You’re letting your affection for him cloud your judgement,’ Abby had responded with such cold detachment that Clarke had been struck silent. She had been hoping to exploit Abby’s maternal instincts to get her way but the woman in front of her was not that woman. This was the woman who had turned her husband in to be executed for the supposed  ‘good’ of the population, and Clarke wasn’t sure she could have bargained for her own well-being, much less that of her erst-while lover, with this icy, emotionless version of the woman who raised her.

So Clarke had resorted to ultimatums. It wasn ’ t the path she wanted to take, it felt childish and petty, like picking up her toys and going home because she wasn ’ t getting her way, but she couldn' t have Bellamy rotting in that quarantine room just like they couldn ’ t have a fully staffed medical team in there without her. She swore to anyone who dared to make noise about Bellamy ’ s preferential treatment that the second someone tried to move him was the last second she spent in that airlock, friends and neighbors be damned. She was lucky that no one decided to test her, not because they would be calling her bluff, but because she was sickly sure that there was no bluff to call and she didn ’ t want any more deaths on her conscience.

Clarke trudged into her tent and toed off her shoes, slumping to her bed, still in the day ’ s sweaty clothes. Some distant analytical part of her brain knew that she had been sleeping less than three hours a night and she was lucky her body hadn ’ t completely shut down. She was probably operating on nothing more than fumes and stubbornness at this point and she should be making every effort to sleep for the few brief hours that she was afforded. This was easier said than done however, since it didn ’ t even take closing her eyes for her mind to begin its frantic racing over everything that was happening, and more specifically how it applied to Bellamy.

Keeping her sane, and allowing her to present the consistently optimistic front to her likely infected friend, was the fact that the research was actually going remarkably well. The plunder from Mt. Weather had been good for more than just some pretty dresses, and between the extensive medical and laboratory supplies and the absolute blind luck that most of the brightest scientists had made it down with the Ark, things were looking hopeful. A rudimentary version of a vaccine had already been devised and initial tests on rodents proved it was at least effective on less evolved mammals. 

 

They were lucky that the incubation time for this strain was so much shorter in other organisms so that they could run the tests in a timely manner, but that was where the good news came to an end, because it seemed as though the incubation period in the human subjects was turning out to be shorter as well. The most recent symptomatic patient swore on every living relative they had ever even heard of that they could not possibly have been exposed more than 8 days before. This wouldn ’ t have been so troubling in face of a nearly functional vaccine if it wasn ’ t for the fact that the injection had only worked in tests when the rats had only been exposed. Once the rats displayed any symptoms, the vaccine was worthless.

Clarke went and sat outside Bellamy ’ s tent every day, reporting back from the airlock and the lab before they took turns reading to each other, but the knowledge that the vaccine would soon be useless when it came to the person she cared for the most, created a bubble of constantly swelling anxiety in her chest. She could almost forget for a few minutes while they sat together talking. Conversation with Bellamy had always been like that for her, a fully immersive experience where the rest of the world faded to the background, but the second she got up and began to walk away it would start to expand and threaten to choke her with worry.

There had been another boy by the bonfire that Saturday who had followed Bellamy ’ s potentially fatally bad lead, and had run towards the fainting boy instead of away. It was Devon ’ s boyfriend someone had informed her, which explained why he had burst from the crowd to cradle the coughing teenager when Bellamy had stepped away, for all the good it had done either of them though she thought bitterly. Devon was as good as dead, he was unconscious more than he wasn ’ t at this point and when he was awake his activity could be described as listless at best. Today Clarke had stopped by his cot and seen that the deadness had started to creep into his red gaze, she knew that when that empty blankness chased out the pleading and bargaining, the end was close. As for Devon ’ s handsome boyfriend, his dumb devotion got him nowhere better than the other side of the airlock while his love wasted away a few feet away, unable to do anything better than countdown the time until he joined him in dying. 

 

Clarke had a somewhat vested interest in this particular patient and had been keeping close tabs on his progression. Given the apparently changeable nature of the incubation period, this boy was the best insight she had into how Bellamy ’ s condition was likely to progress seeing as they were exposed within seconds of each other. So far he had suffered nothing more critical than a broken heart but Clarke continued to check on him compulsively throughout the course of each day, hoping with everything, that they would finish that fucking vaccine before he displayed anything more serious.

 

Clarke rolled out of bed and pulled her shoes back on, not entirely sure if she had slept at all in the few hours that had intervened between when she had taken them off and that moment, since she had been tossing and turning in the same hazy panic she had spent every night of the past week.

She threw a quick glance over to Bellamy' s tent where she could see Octavia sitting with her back against the nylon. For whatever had transpired between the two women just before Bellamy ’ s exposure, Clarke ’ s heart broke a little further seeing the slight figure propped up there. She was probably doing everything she could to keep up a positive stream of conversation, though Clarke could see the defeated slump of her shoulders. For as poorly as Clarke had taken everything, she was pretty sure that Lincoln was the only thing that had kept the younger Blake from an all out breakdown. The couple would occasionally sit with them during the meals that Clarke bothered to make it to and Octavia had volunteered in the airlock a few more times before Abby suggested she not return. Octavia was like a live wire, the slightest provocation sending her sparking at anything nearby and the only time Clarke saw her do anything other than snap or yell was when she was sitting with her brother or tucked away somewhere with Lincoln.

Raven was waiting outside the airlock with a bowl of oatmeal and a scowl, and Clarke found she didn ’ t even have the energy to argue that she didn ’ t need to be mothered, and instead just took the breakfast and ate quickly and silently. Octavia wasn’t the only one reacting poorly to Bellamy’s exposure and there really wasn ’ t a whole lot to be said when it came to their group of friends lately. Raven ’ s response to the latest developments was to become even more sarcastic and flippant than usual which inevitably upset an overly sensitive Jasper, or goaded the previously unflappable Miller into an argument, and everyone else was walking around in a sort of stunned silence, afraid to open their mouths or else they ’ d end up reminding everyone how much everything was utterly fucked right now. They still looked after each other in the unspoken sort of way that Raven was doing for her, but overall things were strained to say the least.

Clarke handed her back the empty bowl and pressed her lips dryly to her cheek and then Raven was gone without either of them having said a word, as Clarke suited up to enter the airlock. 

 

 

Her first course of business was always to check on her  ‘favorite’ patient but after assuring herself that his condition remained unchanged she had to move over to the other side of the quarantine where she spent hours pumping fluids back into dozens of people that were losing them as quickly as they were going in. It felt like an exercise in failure to spend day in and day out providing nothing but supportive care to patients who inevitably just ended up dying. It wasn’t that losing battles were something Clarke was completely unacquainted with, but it was rare for her to feel this utterly helpless. 

 

Clarke had gotten repeated lectures from Abby about being focused, about how she was going to make a mistake being as distracted as she was, but no amount of reproach was enough to shake her preoccupation. She was in the process of mindlessly switching out yet another empty saline bag when she heard the increasingly familiar commotion that surrounded someone being shuffled from one side of the airlock to the other.

 

‘Oh Benny,” she heard Jackson say sadly from a neighboring cot as he moved around her to help settle the newly symptomatic patient into a recently abandoned bed whose previous owner had kindly died a few hours early to allow space for whoever Benny was.

 

Clarke checked the line from the bag down to the needle that was embedded in the arm of the young girl on the bed in front of her. She might be distracted but she wasn’t going to be responsible for actively killing a patient with an embolism even if it was probably only a matter of time before the virus did the job in a much more gruesome manner.

 

Clarke had stopped trying to learn everyone’s names sometime over the last week in a desperate play to retain her own sanity. Unfortunately, there were still members of the original 100 who she all knew well and couldn’t help but mourn personally when they became sick, but when it came to the strangers and acquaintances she didn’t already know, she made the choice to keep it that way. Her emotional and mental stability was stretched thin enough as it was without learning intimate details about each and every patient she was watching die.

 

Clarke pulled the clip off of the IV line after assuring everything was ready and gave the nameless girl on the bed a tight smile. Her bedside manner sucked lately but fuck anyone who had something to say about it. 

 

Abby’s yellow-suited presence at her elbow startled her as she turned to prep the IV for the newcomer, and Clarke caught a sort of frantic activity in her mother’s normally clinical gaze, as she directed Clarke to help Desmond, one of the younger volunteers in the airlock, with emptying the sick buckets at the other end of the room.

 

Clarke tried to tug her arm out of her mother’s surprisingly tight grip as a growing apprehension began to set in. She wasn’t the most qualified medical professional on the floor, but she was definitely higher ranking than medical waste disposal, so whatever her mother was trying to distract her from she had definitely grasped at the wrong excuse in her moment of panic. 

 

“Stop,” Clarke said with more than a little agitation obvious in her voice as Abby attempted to actually strong arm her away from the patient she had just been caring for. It was a lost cause on the older Griffin’s part since not only did Clarke outweigh her bird-like mother, she also had a year worth of running under her belt and she was undeniably the stronger of the two. 

 

“Clarke,” Abby said, a desperate warning in the way she said her name as she continued to try and insert herself between her daughter and the row of patient cots. Clarke could tell now that it wasn’t the nearly comatose brunette Clarke had just been working with that she was trying to keep her from but rather the new patient, Benny, in the neighboring bed.

 

“What the fuck is going on?” Clarke demanded, giving up the pretense of delicacy with her mother and finally shoving her out of the way, feeling more alert than she had in this airlock in days. 

 

Jackson, in a rare moment of rebellion against Abby’s obvious wishes, stepped to the side and let Clarke approach the bed, the defeated slump of his shoulders obvious even through the bulky radiation suit. Clarke didn’t have to get more than a few steps before she realized why the name Benny had resonated just a little more forcefully than the other faceless names she heard thrown around the airlock all day. 

 

“No.” Clarke heard the denial in a rough version of her own voice so she supposed she was the one that said it not that she was very aware of anything other than the sudden inescapable need to put as much distance between her and the sick bay as possible. Benny, she probably should have bothered to at least learn his name, was the same handsome blonde she had been obsessively checking on since he had been moved into quarantine just over a week ago. He looked at her almost apologetically over the wad of tissue held to his bloody nose.

 

Clarke turned and headed directly to the airlock door, not caring that her shift wasn’t over or that she once more had to physically shove past Abby. She grappled blindly with the handle and was tearing off the hateful radiation suit the second the doors sealed shut behind her. She took a few ragged breaths but still felt like she was suffocating in the stale air inside the Ark. She kicked the suit to the side, not bothering with the decontamination process, it wouldn’t really matter where she was going anyway. 

 

She didn’t bother with a look back to the airlock before taking off down the corridor in a fast walk. She was pretty sure she was going to have Abby on her tail within minutes but she didn’t want to alert Kane to her unofficial desertion at his post just outside the Ark. He had given up being able to pretend that the most useful place for him was pacing impotently outside the airlock and had shifted his post to just outside the ship, guarding against any unauthorized entrance. 

 

“Everything alright Clarke?” Kane asked as she burst out of the recently reinforced front doors to the Ark and into the humid early summer afternoon. For all of her intentions to be as inconspicuous as possible in front of her mother’s friend and guard dog, Clarke couldn’t help but gulp greedily at the fresh air as soon as she was free. 

 

“Mom said I could take a break,” Clarke lied, not even really pausing to see whether he bought the excuse, it was his job to keep people out, not in, after all.

 

Clarke walked the thankfully short distance to her destination completely unbothered by anyone else, and she was inside and zipping the tent behind her less than 5 minutes after leaving the airlock.

 

“Jesus,” Bellamy bleated, scrambling up from his desk where he had apparently been reading a book in a period of downtime between visitors. “What the fuck Clarke?!” he demanded, the emphatic curse muffled as he covered his nose and mouth with a muscular forearm.

 

“Put your arm down,” Clarke ordered, she was fairly sure that he wouldn’t have been calmly reading at his desk if the symptoms had set in, but only seeing his unbloodied face for herself was going to put her at ease, “It isn’t airborne Bell, covering your mouth doesn’t make a difference.”

 

Bellamy dropped his arm slightly, it still hovered near his face but Clarke was able to see more clearly his still healthy complexion and she could feel her entire body sag with relief. She crossed the room and sank onto the bed that had been set up for Lincoln and had so far gone unoccupied before her knees gave out on her and she ended up on the ground.

 

Bellamy all but sprinted to the other side of the tent, putting as much space as possible between the two of them. He had removed his arm from across his face but had raised both hands in the air in some absurd gesture of surrender. 

 

“Seriously what the fuck are you thinking?” he snapped, “You don’t have a suit or a mask or anything. What is going on?” 

 

Clarke found herself fighting off a smile that she was pretty sure would come across as completely inappropriate in the face of his obvious anger, but it was just _really_ good to see him again. It wasn’t like she was unaware of the substantial risk she was taking, but neither did she regret it now that it was done, and she needed Bellamy to accept that she had made a choice.

 

“We’re partners,” Clarke said earnestly, meeting Bellamy’s gaze from across the room and she could see that there was just as much, if not more, worry in it as there was anger. “You shouldn’t have to do this alone.”

 

“What? Die?” Bellamy scoffed, a sick sardonic smile worming its way onto his face and twisting his handsome features into something that scared her.

 

“Don’t say that,” Clarke bit out, every bit as furious as she had ever been at him in that moment, “We’re going to have a cure in the next couple of days and you will be fine so stop with the fucking doomsday bullshit, I’ve never known you to be such a victim.”

 

“You seem so sure Princess, aren’t you leaving them a little short handed? How are they supposed to get anything done now that you’ve gotten yourself stuck in here with me?” Bellamy retorted. 

 

Clarke winced at the dig and a very small part of her did feel a little guilty about abandoning her position in the quarantine but she knew that her departure wouldn’t do anything to impact the pace of the research. They weren’t going to divert any efforts from the vaccine to cover for her she was positive, everyone knew they were just killing time in that airlock and the lab was where the actual progress was being made. 

 

“I was becoming more of a liability in there than a help,” she said tiredly, “My mom spent more time making sure I was being safe than she did treating patients and I was a distracted waste of space. All I could think about was you.”

 

Bellamy remained on the other side of the tent for another solid minute, nostrils flared and the muscle in his jaw ticking visibly under his skin as he appeared to deliberate on his next course of action. Eventually he ran his hands through his hair, pulling on the too-long curls that were nearly hanging down into his eyes, as he came to sit on his own bed, facing her. He was still sure to keep a good yard in between them but it was a significant improvement over his prior position.

 

“You are fucking insane you know that right?” he asked with utter sincerity. 

 

“Just keep your bodily fluids on your side of the room and we’ll be fine,” Clarke reminded him with a pointed look at his crotch.

 

Bellamy let out a quick bark of genuine laughter and Clarke immediately decided that the risk was work it just for that. She was actually more bothered by the fact that it had taken her this long to make the move than she was worried for her health and safety. 

 

For whatever conversation they had just before he had been exposed and whatever decisions she had thought she needed to make, the one overwhelming fact remained that they were partners. A true partner didn’t abandon the other in their time of greatest need.

 

“God, I missed you Clarke,” Bellamy breathed, his earnest brown gaze completely devoid of the anger that had been there just minutes before, and it was fixed on her with an openness that she was pretty sure only Octavia had been lucky enough to receive in the past. The sound of her real name in his gravelly voice was always enough to make it feel like her heart was swelling in her chest and when combined with the raw emotion on his face she was completely overwhelmed with a wash of fondness for the beautiful broken man in front of her.

 

Clarke was startled by the soft swish of several pebbles hitting the side of the tent and she broke the intense eye contact to look for the source of the noise.

 

“Clarke in there with you?”

 

Bellamy groaned and flopped back on his bed at the same time Raven spoke from the other side of the tent.

 

“I’m here Raven,” Clarke said, bracing herself to be chewed out fully and brutally, even as she let out a sigh of relief that it wasn’t her mother who had come to retrieve her.

 

“I assume you aren’t wearing a suit in there since yours was left outside the airlock like some huge banana peel condom,” Raven observed and Clarke immediately replied in the affirmative.

 

“Figured,” she sniffed, “Kane and your mom had a quick pow wow and decided that if you were in there stewing in Bellamy’s sick fumes without any protective gear it’s in everyones best interest if you just stay put. I told her I figured that was probably the point of you ditching the suit in the first place but I think she knew that already.”

 

“I know how it’s spread,” Clarke replied indignantly. Sure, she was an idiot, but she hadn’t been completely stripped of her intelligence or self control.

 

“I’m sure she’ll be pleased to hear the report you weren’t over here immediately sucking face and swapping blood fever germs with your idiot of a fucking boyfriend,” Raven said dryly. “But it took the combined persuasion powers of pretty much half of camp to convince her not to storm over and rip you out of here herself. I’m here because, and I quote, ‘If I go over there right now I’m going to say some things that can’t be taken back’.”

 

“That’s actually much more restraint than I expected,” Clarke mused, taking genuine comfort in Raven’s levity even if it felt forced as hell.

 

“She did want you to know that this is the most reckless, irresponsible, thing you’ve ever done though,” Raven said, tossing another handful of pebbles at the tent.

 

“She isn’t wrong,” Bellamy contributed, shooting Clarke another glare that told her she wasn’t completely off the hook with him either, no matter how much he had missed her.

 

“I tend to agree as well,” Raven said. “So, please be aware that every single one of your friends is fucking furious with you right now.” There was a brief but definite pause before she continued, still sounding tight and upset but there was also a note of admiration in her voice as well, “We’re all a little proud of you too though Griffin. It’s about time someone got the balls to end this stalemate. You can be a real shit sometimes Blake,” she raised her voice so Bellamy was sure to hear, “But we all love you and you shouldn’t be alone right now.”

 

“Well,” Clarke’s voice was completely choked with tears and she made a face at the blank wall between her and Raven, who she was more than a little annoyed at for making her feel so many feelings, “Shit.”

 

“Truth though, you’re still a goddamn crazy person,” Raven added.

 

“Love you too Rae,” Clarke said, a little less watery but still emotional.

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Raven said and Clarke could tell from the movement of shadow on the wall and the soft shuffling outside that Raven was getting up to leave, “Consider having that conversation with present company before one of you croaks.”

 

Clarke stared open mouthed at the wall and she could hear the strangled noise coming from Bellamy who was now facedown on his own mattress. Raven had always seemed a little too clued in to the goings on between the two of them, and the unfortunate consequence to that, was their friend with the least discerning brain to mouth filter had a lot to say about their relationship. 

 

Being completely honest with herself, Clarke knew that there was a conversation that needed to be had that in no way resembled what had taken place almost a week earlier, but now was not the time either. If both of them got through this in one piece then maybe she would be honest with him, and herself, and she would explain why it felt like her world was coming to an end the second Bellamy had been in danger.

 

“So,” Clarke spoke into the tense silence of the room, “you want to read to me for once?”

 

 

* * *

 

Bellamy spent the next day and a half alternating between trying to maintain an appropriate level of pissed off at Clarke for her completely reckless decision and clear disregard for her own wellbeing, and being immensely grateful to have her around. He felt stupidly happy at moments for being trapped in a tent that could very well be his metaphorical deathbed. 

 

They hadn’t so much as hinted at the conversation that had taken place the previous Saturday, like there was some tacit agreement that, given the circumstances, it was all moot now. It wasn’t that it hadn’t occurred to Bellamy to bring it up, and there was a small bitter part of him that wanted nothing more than to demand a little fucking transparency between the two of them when it came to their feelings for once. He was dying and he sorta deserved it but then he was also dying and didn’t want to risk ruining the current easy intimacy that this might be his last chance to experience.

 

Most of their friends continued to stop by for their regular visits, this time with an introductory scolding for Clarke, but then continuing with somewhat less depression than usual. It was like Clarke’s (probably stupid) decision to isolate herself in there with him alleviated all of them of some small measure of sadness. 

 

He and Clarke had wasted the remainder of the time as they always did together, talking, joking, and arguing. They would both read and she would sit and sketch while he listened his way through the box of mix tapes she had gifted him. Clarke’s sketching had evolved into a game of Pictionary which lasted longer than it had any right to given the atrocious disparity in their drawing abilities. Clarke had finally called it quits after guessing his rhino was a Stegosaurus.

 

“You have no idea what a rhino is do you?” Clarke asked with clear distaste. 

 

There had been a few awkward hours when she had first burst into his tent, where he was still working very hard to be angry at her, and she was treading far to gently for him to really feel normal in the situation. Clarke Griffin was anything but meek and having her act and speak as though she was did nothing but remind him of the dire straits he was in. The timidity had burned off before night even fell though, as he goaded her into an argument over whether ‘To Kill A Mockingbird’ was a timeless classic or a subtle exercise is misogyny and racism. 

 

“Too dinosaury?” he asked sheepishly. Bellamy liked to think he was a man of many talents but illustration was obviously not one of them.

 

“They’re like squat little elephants with two horns on their face,” Clarke explained, two fingers in front of her face to ineffectively mimic horns. 

 

“I know what a rhino is Princess,” Bellamy pouted, after dozens of rounds finally starting to take offense in her scathing critiques of his art, “I just apparently suck at translating that onto paper. I don’t have the brain to hand command that apparently produces goddamn photographs like you.”

 

“There are like….. spikes… all the way down his back Bell,” Clarke pointed out, waving the scrap of paper in his face before dropping it in the growing discard pile. They were going to be out of paper pretty soon. “I just can’t tell if you’re being lazy or if you are truly this bad.”

 

“I spent like 5 minutes on my rhino-dino!” Bellamy said indignantly. Both of them took competition very seriously and they each took it personally when others didn’t. There had been some seriously hurt feelings after a few games of quarters when Jasper had dared to mention that drinking games are supposed to be fun and not like a goddamn war room strategy session.

 

“I just have first hand experience with how talented those fingers of yours are so I have a hard time believing they are so inept with this,” Clarke teased shamelessly.

 

Bellamy groaned and threw the entire pile of completed drawings at her where she was seated on the second bed. They had spent all but the hours they were sleeping in exactly the same arrangement they had fallen into within minutes of her arrival, each sitting on a bed, facing each other over the yard or so in between. They had been best friends long before they had started fucking so it wasn’t as though they didn’t have any experience interacting without the physical aspect but it was seriously testing his self control when she threw out flirty little innuendos like that.

 

“Fine, Pictionary is over, I am clearly the winner like- a thousand times over,” she said, brushing the paper off of her and back onto the ground.

 

“Bullshit, I guessed every one of your drawings, pretty sure the points go to the guesser and so I kicked your ass,” Bellamy retorted, joking but also dead serious.

 

“To avoid the inevitable argument here I’m just calling a mistrial and saving us the waste of time,” Clarke said a little reluctantly. She was normally loathe to give up without a fight but apparently dying was the one thing that caused her to cut him a bit of a break.

 

“Cards?” Bellamy suggested, shuffling the deck they had already used to play several games of rummy. He made a careful effort to draw her attention to his ‘talented hands’ as he shuffled the deck awaiting her response. 

 

 

“Tell me something about you nobody else knows,” Clarke ordered. He wasn’t sure if she just hadn’t heard or if she was intentionally ignoring his innocuous suggestion, but apparently play time was over and Clarke was getting into the deep cuts.

 

Bellamy raised a hand slowly to his face and tried to wipe surreptitiously at his nose, terrified it would come away bloody but thankfully he was still healthy so apparently it was something internal that was causing Clarke to suddenly want to talk about feelings.

 

Clarke gave a pained wince, obviously seeing right though the gesture despite his trying to be covert.

 

“You aren’t dying yet,” she reassured him, “I just- I have this stupid fucking feeling like I miss you already even though you are sitting right here in front of me and you’re going to be fine. I just want to talk about something real for once.”

 

“Weird, I know,” Clarke snorted at his obvious disbelief. 

 

In no way was Clarke emotionless or cold but there was a twisted piece of her after Lexa's brainwashing that saw verbalizing her feelings as a show of weakness. She would sit and read Catch-22 and sob through the last chapters, she would glare and fuss with her mother over small insults to her maturity and leadership, and she would look at their friends with open fondness, but when it came to actually talking about these emotions, especially with him it seemed, she would shut down.

 

“Something no one knows? You do know I shared like, 100 square feet of living space with my mother and O right? It’s not the most conductive environment to having secrets,” Bellamy reminded her, somewhat hopeful that she was opening up to him but still cautious of her intentions.

 

“Christ Bell, have you never played truth or dare? It doesn’t have to be a fucking matter of national security, just something true about you.”

 

Bellamy stared blankly at her and wished he was still drawing hybrid rhinos with back spikes for a pitiful minute. At least he knew what was going through her complicated fucking head when she was chewing him out for his shitty artistic skills, with this he had absolutely no idea what she was asking of him.

 

Part of what had made them such effective leaders at each other’s side was the silent communication that they seemed to adopt without ever really realizing it. He could look at her and know exactly what she was going to say or do and consequently how he needed to respond or act and the same was true when the roles were reversed. It had sort of floored him at first, the natural way they were in tune with each other from the very beginning. He hadn’t, and still didn’t, believe in soul mates, but the first time she had looked at him and seemingly read his fucking mind, he had an instance to question that position. 

 

There were moments though when that telepathic bond seemed to short out and he was left gaping dumbly at her like now. This most often occurred when she was half naked and his brain had a hard time processing anything more than the pale flesh that was exposed but she did have a history of non sequiturs at the most random of moments that left him speechless as well. 

 

“Fine,” Clarke relented, “I’ll go first. I never wanted to be a doctor. I would have much rather been an artist but it’s not like ‘paints really pretty pictures’ was ever exactly a valuable skill on the Ark.”

 

Bellamy still wasn’t sure how this game was played but he knew he wanted more information than that. Being in love with someone had that strange side effect that you wanted to know pretty much everything about them in detail.

 

“I mean I don’t blame you at all, but why?” he asked, “you’re obviously good enough at it.”

 

“I mean that’s kinda why I got roped into it. It’s what my mom did so I was stuck interning there from the second I was of age and I showed an aptitude for it so I was never given much of a choice,” Clarke replied, blue eyes trained on him across the small divide between beds. It was moving the way she was so determined to open up to him despite having apparently convinced herself that this sort of thing was nothing but weakness.

 

“It’s just so clinical,” Clarke continued, nose adorably winkled as she fought to try and explain herself clearly, “I’m not good at not seeing the person in a patient which makes itjust a little to real when they don’t make it. I can’t help but wonder if that’s why my mom was able to do what she did,” she added, eyes going a little distant and misty as they always seemed to when she discussed Jake Griffin. “Like maybe it was having to be that detached and that unemotional every second of every day that made her into the person that could sacrifice my dad for what she thought was the good of everyone else. I see enough of that in myself without reinforcing it on a daily basis.”

 

Bellamy watched Clarke intently through her entire explanation, a twisting somewhere between his heart and his gut reinforcing just what a fucking goner he was for this woman. 

 

“Fuck, Clarke,” he breathed, feeling like whatever was about to come out of his mouth was going to be woefully inadequate, “Clinical is the last thing anyone would accuse you of being. You’re a hurricane Princess and I’m pretty sure everyone around you is just overjoyed to be caught up in the storm.”

 

“God, you are such a cornball,” Clarke said, ducking her head to hide a deep blush and, for all of her ribbing, a very pleased smile. She looked up at him through her lashes and reached across the several feet between them to hook his pinkie with hers.

 

Bellamy and Clarke had been fucking six ways to Sunday and probably to every other day of the week as well but there was something in this gesture that was more intimate than anything that had come before. 

 

Bellamy was completely overcome by a sense of wanting that he had never experienced to that level in his life. It was of a completely different breed than the heady desire he felt when they slept together or even the twinge of yearning he was pretty much constantly nursing to hold her hand or just generally be near her. This was an encompassing want that he felt in every atom of his being and it was completely for him.

 

Bellamy had plenty of experience wanting things for the other people in his life. He wanted security for his mother so she didn’t have to resort to the means she did to support their small family. He wanted happiness for his little sister whose resilient spirit had persisted through years of soul crushing isolation. He wanted safety and calm for the remainder of the 100 that had become his extended family on Earth. But this want for Clarke was just for him. For once he wasn’t trying to be selfless or to think of anyone else and he just wanted to be with Clarke with everything that he was. He was also faced with the growing realization that maybe the reason he could want this way was because she did too.

 

And it was so fucking unfair.

 

“Something true about me,” Bellamy began, maintaining the single point of contact where their fingers were touching, “I am so scared to die.”

 

Clarke’s mouth tightened into a hard line and he was pretty sure she wanted to launch into another rousing speech about the success of the research and reassurances that he would be fine, but she stifled it so he could continue just as she had with her story.

 

“Everybody is always telling me how brave I am,” Bellamy said, “I would die if it meant keeping you, O, or the rest of them safe but there isn’t anything all that brave in that. It’s just me selfishly protecting the things that I love. When it comes down to it though I am completely terrified. Like, right now, it seems so fucking pointless. I’m not dying for a cause or sacrificing for something that matters. My worthless fucking body is just giving up on me.” Bellamy gave a hollow laugh and Clarke’s other hand twitched towards him before thinking better of it.

“I don’t really think there is anything after this,” Bellamy continued, “I’m sitting here facing down an eternity of nonexistence and I am scared out of my fucking mind.”

 

“I’m scared too,” Clarke admitted quietly and he could see a few tears streaking down her cheeks despite the tough set of her face that was clearly her attempt to fight them off. He envied her a little for her ability to still feel sad over the entire situation while he was stuck somewhere between terrified and numb. She dropped his finger to swipe at her cheeks and he immediately missed the contact. 

 

“It’s not fair,” Bellamy said and he couldn’t help the short bark of laughter that escaped over the sheer ridiculousness of hearing that petty little sentiment being verbalized. “I want so badly to grow up with you all. I want to see what this fierce warrior my sister turned into has in store. I want to see her teach her strength but also her sense of wonder to my niece or nephew. I want to see if Jasper and Monty ever produce a batch of moonshine that doesn’t taste like rocket fuel. I want to be sure that Raven knows her worth outside of the men who love her because she is the coolest fucking person I know. I want to know who wins our bet on when Monty and Miller realize what’s going on between them and I want to watch Harper realize that Jones has been into her pretty much forever. I don’t understand why fucking happenstance means that I was in the wrong place at the wrong time and now I’m not going to get to finish any of this.” Bellamy paused, his breathing downright ragged but it felt incredibly cathartic to be unleashing this sort of honesty finally and he wasn’t going to stop before he got out his final point.

 

“More than anything though, I want to see where this goes,” he said, looking meaningfully at Clarke, “ this is not a dance I want to cut out early on because I’m pretty sure this is some once in a lifetime type shit Clarke. You are it for me. I am so in l-“

 

“Stop.” Clarke cut him off with a forceful shout. The demand in the middle of what had been until that point her silent attention to his monologue shocked him into silence. 

 

He had been watching for the familiar frantic look that she got when he started to venture into emotional territory that was a little too real and had been comforted to see its absence, but it meant that he had been oblivious to the alternative emotion that had been rising in her as he spoke. Clarke wasn’t anxious or distressed over the emotional upheaval, she was fucking angry.

 

“You don’t get to do that,” Clarke said, her voice nearly shaking with her outrage, “I’ve had to hear from damn near everyone else I care about how fucking in love with me you are.”

 

Bellamy had the self possession to feel chagrined at this, of course he was an obvious dope about his feelings and everyone on the planet was in the know already. He wanted to be annoyed that they had gone to Clarke with these observations but he knew he had no one but himself to blame.

 

“My own mother said as much in a wordier and significantly more offensive manner,” Clarke continued to seethe, “but I told them all they had no idea what they were talking about because if Bellamy Blake was in love with me he would want to be the one to tell me himself.”

 

“I’m trying,” Bellamy began but was again silenced by Clarke’s interruption.

 

“Now?” Clarke demanded, “You don’t get to do that Bellamy, you don’t get to tell me you love me because you think you are fucking dying, you coward.”

 

Bellamy was pretty sure that even if he wasn’t incubating a deadly virus he would feel like he was from this conversation. Regret and shame warred with the growing panic over his dwindling time, causing his head to throb and his stomach to turn. This was obviously not the ideal situation for this confession but it might be all the opportunity he had as little as Clarke wanted to acknowledge it.

 

“You can finish that sentence when you’re better,” Clarke concluded, her tone brokering no room for discussion. Her face was as red as he had ever seen it and her entire petite frame was trembling, with anger or nerves, he wasn’t entirely sure. She gestured bluntly for the deck of cards and was dealing them out as though nothing had happened within the minute. 

 

 

* * *

 

Monty had taken to haunting the conference room of the Ark in which his parents were among the scientists working on a vaccine for the virus. He hadn’t been entirely sure what two pharmacists were going to be able to contribute but ultimately trusted in their intelligence and decided that the more brains on this task the better. 

 

He had reason before to wish he wasn’t the sort of person who so easily faded into the background. Apart from being a natural introvert, a kid caught up in his own imagination instead of out seeking attention in the real world, he and Jasper had been friends nearly since birth and Jasper had always been the loudmouth who got noticed. 

 

Monty longed for a little of his friend’s brashness when he had been picked last in gym on the Ark, not because people didn’t like him (because everyone he met always seemed to) but more because he had just disappeared into the crowd and been forgotten until no one else was left. He wanted some of the spunk Raven had so he could actually fucking do something about it when he saw Miller shoot him that sort of crooked smile when Bryan wasn’t looking.

 

Then, there were instances like this, when Raven and Jasper had been unequivocally banned from the lab, even Octavia whose own boyfriend was helping with the research was no longer welcome, that he was deeply thankful for his ability to blend in. While the others were storming around outside waiting for updates he was able to listen quietly from his parent’s neighboring microscopes and hear exactly what progress was being made.

 

This is why Monty was the first one to hear the excited rumor of success as it spread from table to table in the cramped lab space. Everyone had heard that there was a promising option for the pre-symptomatic and unexposed, but that it needed at least one more round of rodent tests before they were comfortable inoculating the actual humans in camp. 

 

That was a couple days ago and now it seemed as though they had been right to be hopeful. Monty kept up his unobtrusive watch, trying to get as many details as possible just by listening in, and did his best not to get carried away before he was given the definitive confirmation.

 

“You’re friends with the Blake kid aren’t you?” the gruff voice of Jane Matthews, one of the Ark’s top scientists, startled him from behind. 

 

Monty could only nod emphatically and it was a sign of how serious things were that the woman didn’t even seem remotely charmed by his quiet lack of pretension.

 

“You’re going to want to get this to him as soon as possible,” she said, extending a capped syringe to Monty, “we’re still working on amplification so we can treat the rest of camp so keep this secret with your life, but it’s only going to be good if he’s not showing any symptoms yet and we all know that clock is running down.”

 

Monty wasn’t sure if he let out a squeak of thanks or just a literal squeak but he was out of the airlock and damn near sprinting to Bellamy’s tent before he could hear another word about how little time they had.

 

All of the giddy happiness Monty had been filled with for the first time in weeks came crashing down as soon as he zipped his way into his friend’s tent and was met with identically miserable stares from Clarke and Bellamy. Clarke sat on the makeshift bed that had been set up for Lincoln’s visit and was already facing the open flap. Bellamy was sitting on his own bed, his body facing Clarke but his head turned to the front of the tent at the disturbance from Monty’s entrance. 

 

Clarke was gripping a hand of playing cards but it was obvious they weren’t playing any of the conventional games he was aware of since everything from her swollen eyes, red face, and damp cheeks said that she had been crying quite hard. Her blue eyes looked at him with such a lost expression Monty almost felt his bladder go at the terror of seeing his normally steadfast leader in such a state.

 

It was Bellamy, though, that brought Monty to his knees, the recently precious syringe falling to the ground next to him because while Bellamy looked much less devastated than Clarke the tears on his cheeks were bright red.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TBC
> 
> I don’t even have the words to say how sorry I am that this took so long. Seriously I am the worst and you all are the absolute best. I am so grateful to everyone who is still reading. We’re getting close to the end (2 more chapters) and I will do everything in my power not to have such a ridiculously extended hiatus before I post again. I’m getting married in a week and we all know that honeymoons are prime fanfic writing incentives so hopefully I will have something again really soon!!! I think I also have gotten to caught up in my AU and I struggled a little to get myself into the angst headspace I need for this one. I’m so sorry again that wedding prep made me such a shitty lazy author and I vow to be more deserving of you dear readers. 
> 
> Another note. The science in this makes me want to punch myself in the face. Seriously, I have 2 degrees in biology and I am utterly embarrassed by the scientific logistics of this story. I hope that my fellow science nerds aren’t too distracted by the total implausibility of it all (only before symptoms show up? really amy?) and can still enjoy. Warning though- it’s going to get even worse next chapter because reasons and plot. I am the worst scientist ever. 
> 
> Every comment/review is treasured by me almost as much as adorable Bellamy Blake puppy-dog-eye gifs. Let me know what you liked/didn’t like etc and also come flail around on tumblr with me. (CharmingPromise there too)


	7. Just One Yesterday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And a resolution. Last chapter before the epilogue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I updated this last in 2015. I can't even.   
> All I can say is that I think S3 left me a little uninspired and angry for a while. It's a terrible excuse and if you are still reading you deserve much better! Fortunately S4 is giving me life and this is finally finished. All that's left from here is an epilogue and I PROMISE that will be done by next week.
> 
> I went through and updated some things in earlier chapters to help it fit cannon a little bit better as it stands right now. It felt really wrong to ignore Miller and Clarke's sexualities as they had not yet been established when I began writing this so I made a few alterations to fix that. It shouldn't hurt your understanding of this chapter but if you are re-reading (which.... I'm an asshole and its been 2 years so you might need to) you might notice the differences. 
> 
> Thank you so much again to everyone who has read and supported this and checked in along the way!

* * *

 

Anything you say can and will be held against you

So only say my name

It will be held against you

Anything you say can and will be held against you

So only say my name

If heaven’s grief brings hell’s rain

Then I’d trade all my tomorrows for just one yesterday

For just one yesterday

 

Just One Yesterday- Fall Out Boy

* * *

It was more accurate to say that Clarke fought her way back into consciousness than it was that she simply woke up. 

She wasn’t prone to irresponsible binges but every so often she felt the need to assert her ability to ‘be fun’ to a crowd and would drink herself stupid on Monty and Jasper’s latest toxic distillation and inevitably ended up paying for it with a hangover. There had been one particular black cherry strain that had left her near tears from the headache and that was still nothing in comparison to the spiking pain in her temples as she shifted stiffly on her mattress. 

 

Her mouth had a familiar cottony dryness and her tormented brain was trying desperately to piece together fractured memories from the night before just like it would after a night of blackout drinking.

 

“You’re going to puke aren’t you?” a stern and mildly disgusted voice sounded from a few short feet away.

 

“Probably,” Clarke managed honestly, before she leaned over the side of her bed and vomited a mucusy gruel onto the tent floor. 

 

“Gross,” her companion commented without much feeling while Clarke studied what she thought was a familiar pair of black boots and tried to direct her gaze north to properly identify their owner.

 

Octavia saved her the trouble by stepping closer and kneeling down to eye level. Clarke wanted to warn her to be mindful of the puddle of sick next to her but the cool rag that the other girl laid on her forehead was such a relief to her still pounding head that she was quickly distracted. The concern that replaced the suspicion and disapproval she was used to seeing in Octavia’s green eyes was a great comfort as well. She was still barely in possession of her basic lizard brain but it was obvious that she was forgetting something monumental for the other girl to have such a change in opinion over her.

 

“They drugged you,” Octavia explained, leaving the rag on her head and pressing a canteen into Clarke’s limp hand. 

The words made sense in a literal sort of way but Clarke was having a hard time applying them in the context of her current situation.

Octavia seemed unaware of this confusion and plunged onward with her narrative.

 

“We need a plan,” she said, rising back to her feet so she could pace the cramped space of the tent in agitation, “they won’t let me see him.”

 

The smoothness of the canteen in her fingers and the cold water she managed to swallow began to bring a degree of clarity to her hazy thoughts and the final pronoun in Octavia’s words pierced through it cleanly. 

 

Him.

 

“Where is he?” Clarke asked frantically, the anxiety rising in her chest enough to erase any embarrassment she might have had over the rusty timbre of her voice and the drunken stumble that impeded her getting up. 

 

Octavia looked over sharply, as Clarke’s condition seemed to finally register through her own worried thoughts, “Jesus Clarke, you don’t remember do you?”

 

Clarke sat on the edge of her bed and ran shaky hands through her hair as a wave of vertigo and accompanying nausea prevented her from trying to get up again. She looked up with the intention of admitting to Octavia she was just now remembering her own name but was struck silent by the simultaneously terrified and weary expression on the other girl’s face.

 

“They’ve got Bell in the airlock,” Octavia said, tension tight in her forehead and jaw, “they found out he was symptomatic and your mother and Marcus had about five guards haul him off to the Ark,”

 

Clarke buried her face into her hands as she tried desperately to grasp at the fragments of memories that Octavia’s retelling was stirring up. The image of the blood that had started to trickle from the corner of Bellamy’s left eye half way through a very tense game of Go Fish was shockingly clear and she could also remember Monty rushing in with the vaccine only 40 minutes too late but everything after that was broken and hazy. 

 

“You tried to go in there with him but apparently you aren’t any more welcome than I am,” Octavia continued, “You were refusing your vaccine until they let you in to see him. I don’t think I’ve ever seen your mom that scared and furious at the same time. Apparently it wasn’t up for negotiation though because they just drugged you and gave you the vaccine while you were under.”

 

“How long have I been out?” Clarke asked. She couldn’t distinctly remember any of the things Octavia had said but it all sounded pretty much in character for both her and her mother.

 

“Two and a half days,” Octavia said, voice rough, “Up until today there were guards outside your tent making sure that no one got in and that you were kept doped to the gills. The vaccine made most people pretty sick for a day or two and I think Abby wanted to make sure you stayed put while you recovered. Thank fuck your fever broke last night or else I doubt I’d be in here now.”

 

The sick feeling in Clarke’s stomach suddenly had nothing to do with the vaccine or the other drugs in her system. 

 

“They gave him the vaccine anyway,” Octavia said, intuiting the source of her obvious anxiety, “Monty has some sources and has been reporting back. It hasn’t been a miracle cure but it seems like it’s slowed the progression a little bit. He still wasn’t throwing up until this morning, but now…” She trailed off and Clarke spent the moment of silence struggling into a new t-shirt and her shoes. Octavia bent down and tied the laces when Clarke found the finger dexterity of such an action still eluded her.

 

“We need Monty,” Clarke said, the beginning of a pretty idiotic plan, taking root despite the remaining cobwebs. Time wasn’t exactly a luxury now that she had spent the past 60 hours sleeping and even the stupidest of plans had to be considered.

 

Octavia hooked an arm around her back and hauled her to her feet surprisingly easily considering Clarke had an easy 20 pounds on her. 

 

“You love him,” Octavia said, eyeing her in her peripheral vision as she continued to provide some much needed balance as they left Clarke’s tent. 

 

The majority of the populace of Arkadia had apparently returned to a state of somewhat normalcy in the two days that Clarke had been incapacitated. People were walking around completing the same mundane chores they had been responsible for before. They had all gotten the vaccine and while most were still a little woozy and apprehensive, life went on. It was almost like Clarke’s life wasn’t crumbling around her.

“I think there’s another Blake that deserves that conversation before you,” was all she could manage but it seemed to be enough to satisfy Octavia. 

“Monty’s been spending a lot of time at Miller’s. That’s our best bet if we want to find him.”

 

* * *

 

Clarke, Octavia, and Monty lead what turned into a small mob up to the entrance of the Ark where Kane was still posted with several other senior members of the guard. There couldn’t be more than four patients in the airlock anymore, Bellamy included, and the populace of Arkadia had been inoculated with the exception of a few immunocompromised individuals who had been kept isolated anyway, but they were clearly not taking any chances.

 

“Clarke,” Kane greeted. It was clear that he had been informed of her waking and was just waiting for her to show up. If the reinforcements behind her gave him any pause it wasn’t obvious in his demeanor. If anything, the expression on his face was one of pity and understanding.

 

“Let me see him,” she ordered doing her best to keep her voice level and controlled. She wasn’t above begging but it didn’t seem like a good place to start her negotiations.

 

“Your mother would have my head,” was his only reply, very obvious to keep his own personal opinions on the matter unstated.

 

“They’re vaccinated. He poses very little risk to either of them,” Monty reminded their chancellor, filling the role Clarke had hoped he would. While Octavia was an unmanageable ball of emotion and highly reactive and Clarke had outed herself as deeply biased on top of still being weak and muzzy-headed, Monty was informed and rational when it came to the vaccine. It was also a bit of a hail Mary but Monty’s sweet persona could sometimes finesse things out of the adults in a way that most of the other delinquents could not.

 

“We have no idea the long term efficacy of this little drug your parents helped cook up,” Kane reminded him though it was clear to everyone the response was directed to the two women on either side of him just as much. He squeezed Monty’s shoulder and turned fully to Clarke. “Your mother is doing everything in her power to make him well,” he almost pleaded, “She knows how deeply you care for him and if you think she could bear to see you hurt in such a way you really don’t understand how much she loves you. She can work better if she doesn’t have to worry about you too.”

 

“Yeah, fuck this,” Octavia snorted, already frustrated with the lack of progress diplomacy had gotten them. She unsheathed the ever present sword at her hip in the same motion with which she grabbed Monty around the torso. Before anyone on either side of the confrontation had a moment to think much less act she had the blade pressed to her friend’s neck, an expectant but deadly serious look trained on Marcus Kane.

 

Clarke opened her mouth to protest but was silenced by a single look.

 

“He is your friend” Kane soothed, his hands out in a calming and hopefully placating gesture immediately, while his tone was beseeching. Unpredictable ranked up among Octavia’s defining character traits and Clarke herself was only 70% sure that she wouldn’t follow through on her threat.

 

“And that is my brother,” Octavia stated coldly, “None of you understand what that means but you’re about to get an idea. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for him.” 

 

Monty shifted uncomfortably and Octavia punctuated her threat by pushing the blade closer to his throat, a thin line of blood seeping out at the point of contact like a gory necklace.

 

The guards gathered behind Kane seemed at a loss as to whether they should be intervening, rendered virtually useless by a single 19 year old girl.

 

Kane stared at each girl in turn, thoughtful brown eyes judging how serious Octavia was and trying to determine whether Clarke really wouldn’t intervene to save her friend when it came down to it. He eventually came to the conclusion that neither outcome was acceptable and motioned for his already ineffectual guards to stand down. 

 

“None of us wanted this Clarke,” he said.

 

Clarke ran past without a response as Octavia shoved Monty at the crowd of his friends and followed close behind.

 

“She didn’t have to actually cut him,” she heard Miller complain and she could imagine the concern on his grumpy face as he tended to Monty’s injuries.

 

“It worked didn’t it?” Monty asked, as Kane’s sigh echoed down the corridor behind them.

* * *

 

 

Abby and Jackson were in the airlock but had abandoned the clumsy yellow suits for much less severe methods of protection, with only a medical mask over the bottom half of their faces and surgical gloves on their hands.

 

Much like Kane, Abby seemed disappointed but unsurprised to see Clarke and Octavia storm into the isolated room. 

Abby immediately offered both of them masks but Clarke just swatted it away in irritation and Octavia’s withering glare was enough to make her wish she had never even been introduced to barrier protection before.

 

Bellamy was not hard to locate as there were in fact only three patients remaining in quarantine and both girls were quickly at his side. 

 

Clarke had done her share of watching Bellamy sleep over the course of the past two years. She had seen him fall asleep next to campfires, caught him dozing off at the dinner table after a particularly long day, and more recently his sleeping face had become the last thing she saw before she closed her own eyes at night. She was used to seeing his long thick eyelashes nearly brushing his high cheekbones, long breaths through his nose causing his chest to rise and fall, his brow wrinkling occasionally as something troubled him in a dream. There was nothing of that peaceful man in the unconscious figure on the cot in front of her, so as Octavia fell to her knees and grasped her brother’s hand Clarke could do nothing but stare in mute horror.

 

Blood was caked at his ears and nose and rimmed his eyes which were squeezed tight in pain even as he slept, much like the grimace which twisted his full lips in a thin line. Bellamy’s normal golden skin was grey and ashy and his freckles which normally made Clarke think of constellations and summer stood out in such stark contrast they only served to make him look more pale and sickly.

 

“You shouldn’t be here Clarke,” Abby said softly, exhaustion audibly weighing down each word. She had been working non-stop for two weeks and to say that it had taken a toll would be an understatement. Clarke wanted to feel sorry for her mom who had clearly been stretched to her limits but she still felt violated over being drugged and seeing her calmly changing out IVs while Bellamy died on a cot nearby stripped her of that capacity.

 

“He’s in pain,” she said, ignoring her mother’s half hearted attempt at convincing her to leave, “He’s in pain and you aren’t doing _anything.”_

 

“We’re doing everything we can baby,” Abby tried to reach for her but Clarke moved to the other side of the cot putting Bellamy and his sister between her and her mother’s well-intentioned but completely useless comfort. 

 

“You aren’t trying,” Clarke insisted, a frantic terror clawing around inside her chest, “You’re doing the same shit you did for everyone else and what happened to them Mom?”

 

She was unaware but part of the crowd from outside had made their way inside and was huddled around the airlock, hanging onto everything that went on inside. 

 

“They died,” Clarke continued, beyond caring if she was being unfair to her mother and Jackson who had without question given everything they had tending to the sick within that room.

 

“I can’t lose him,” Clarke pleaded, looking down at Bellamy’s near motionless form. His breath was coming in fits and for entire seconds it looked like he was already gone. 

 

Verbalizing it made Clarke realize how painfully true her last statement was. She had experienced a great deal of loss in her short life. She had watched her father get floated, her best friend had been murdered, and she had seen two lovers lose their lives in situations that were at least partially her fault. But fathers were supposed to die before their children and friends and lovers could be mourned. Losing Bellamy would mean losing her other half and people didn’t just walk around with half of themselves missing. Going through the rest of her life without him was unfathomable. Abby couldn’t possibly understand. If she did she wouldn’t have bothered to go through such pains to give her the vaccine. If Bellamy died it was going to take a lot more than medicine to save Clarke. 

 

Abby was crying though Clarke herself was not. She was way to scared to cry and what fucking good were tears doing any of them right now anyway.

 

“He’s gotten the vaccine,” Abby reiterated, “None of the others had that. We’re giving him all of the fluids we have. Saline and blood. We just have to hope that his body can fight it off.”

 

Clarke was about to point out to her mother that it was pretty obvious his body wasn’t doing that in the least when something in her words struck her.

 

“Blood?” she asked, thinking out loud as another ill-advised plan began to take form, “Whose?”

 

“Whatever is left from the last blood drive,” Jackson replied, reminding Clarke that there were other people in the room for the first time.

 

“What about mine?” she asked, looking up at her mom and feeling something that resembled hope for the first time in days. “A transfusion. I’ve gotten the vaccine and I’m healthy now. My body is producing the antibodies now, maybe my blood can help his do the same. This was engineered by Mt. Weather, transfusions were sorta their thing.”

 

“Clarke,” Abby began warningly, but Clarke was too caught up in her evolving plan to be bothered.

 

“It’s better than just sitting around and hoping for a miracle we know isn’t going to happen. It makes sense.”

 

“I suppose it couldn’t hurt,” Jackson offered softly and Clarke felt validated in her hope to get something other than outright dismissal from the smart young doctor.

 

“He’s AB, the universal recipient. It will work,” Clarke continued, eyes bright and eager as she looked at her mom for confirmation. She didn’t need Abby’s support but it would certainly help to have her on her side.

 

“And what about you?” Abby finally snapped.

 

“I’m vaccinated, I’ll be fine,” Clarke shrugged.

 

“I’m not talking about the virus. He might be the universal recipient but you aren’t. You’re type O Clarke. If we do a transfusion his blood is going to kill you even without the virus.”

 

Clarke’s mouth snapped closed and her racing thoughts suddenly quieted as she blinked blankly at her mother. Her own well being hadn’t even occurred to her in her desperate plan to try and save the man she was in love with. It was a little unsettling to realize that his safety was as dear to her as her own but it came as no real surprise. Abby was clearly not as complacent about this revelation as she stared at her daughter in abject horror.

 

“She might not be a match,” Octavia spoke, breaking the tense stand off between the two Griffin women, “but I am. Thank god Mom’s type was apparently A since both of our dad’s left us with the same blood.”

 

Some of the tension seemed to leave Abby once it was clear her daughter wasn’t going to be the one put in harms way, “We can’t be sure this will work.”

 

“It’s the best plan we’ve got,” Clarke said, squeezing Octavia’s shoulder gratefully. Octavia looked up and gave her a small, watery smile as she laced her fingers with Clarke’s on her shoulder. The tears that had so far been held at bay by sheer panic started leaking out at the gesture and Clarke did her best to return the smile.

 

“I didn’t get sick either time and I had no reaction to the vaccine,” Octavia reminded them, already stripping off her light summer jacket and rolling up the sleeve of her shirt. “I’m pretty much invincible.”

 

Clarke wasn’t sure if someone had gone to get Lincoln or if he had just been drawn by some unconscious awareness that Octavia was in trouble but he pushed his way through the accumulated crowd to crouch by her side as she was settled onto a cot next to her brother. Clarke could see in the tight set of his jaw and the worry in his expressive brown eyes that he hated every part of this plan but he knew that loving Octavia came with knowing that she was going to do exactly what she wanted in every situation and he was just along for the ride. Octavia was lucky to have found someone who complimented her in such a way, who was so suited to her. 

 

She wasn’t the only one lucky enough to find such a person, Clarke had a moment to think before the sedatives Jackson injected Octavia with began to take effect and he and Abby hurried to ready the siblings for the transfusion.

* * *

 

 

Bellamy regained consciousness with a start. It was as if his panic-stricken brain had been shut down mid-thought by his failing body and as his physical being rebooted, his thoughts started back up exactly where they had left off.

 

The last thing he could remember was three haz-mat suited guards dragging him from his tent as another pinned Clarke to the ground, injecting her with something and two others restrained a nearly-rabid Octavia who was screaming his name and kicking and tearing at them as she attempted to follow him.

 

He had vague impressions of being in the airlock and Clarke’s mother hovering over him, out of her suit but still cautious, looking for all the world like she was about to cry. If he had the mind for it he might have been pleased to see her so affected since he had been pretty sure she didn’t like him very much.

 

The final even slightly coherent thing he could recall was a needle slipping into his arm and the memory of Clarke’s face.

 

He tried to sit up but that quickly proved to be an impossibility in his weakened condition. He could tell from the steel and mechanical trappings above his cot that he was in the airlock still, a saline IV connected from a pole at his right to his inner arm. He knew that he still felt terrible, his head throbbed and his stomach turned with every motion but there was something lessened about the misery. Instead of the fever that had felt like it was cooking his brain earlier he was dripping with sweat, and when he licked his lips he could tell that the blood that had been flowing from his nose was crusted and dry.

 

He couldn’t sit up but he did manage to turn his head slightly to the protest of his creaking neck and take stock of his surroundings. He could feel a scream bubbling up when he saw the small form resting on a cot next to him. She was the last person he wanted dying in this quarantine with him.

 

As if sensing his scrutiny and concern she rolled over to face him, green eyes fluttering open.

 

Bellamy took some comfort in the fact that she appeared to be healthy if a bit pale.

 

“Take it easy big brother,” Octavia ordered with a relieved smile. “It’s nice to have you back.”

 

“What’s going on?” Bellamy asked, “Why are you in here? Are you alright?”

 

“I said take it easy not continue to freak out,” she drawled, shoving her own IV pole at his so they clanged together and the saline bags jostled on their hooks. “They did a transfusion.”

 

Bellamy furrowed his brow, trying to puzzle out what that meant in his still slightly foggy mind. 

 

“We upgraded your shitty blood for mine so I can fight this virus for you.”

 

Bellamy let lose with every swear word he had ever heard and made up a few of his own for good measure, “Who the FUCK let you do that?”

 

“Nobody _lets_ me do anything. I’m fine Bell,” Octavia promised, sitting up and perching on the edge of her cot before pushing herself shakily to her feet and pirouetting in a wobbly circle. “I’m a little woozy and feel like I could sleep for about a year but I’m okay.”

 

Bellamy searched her face closely to see if he could detect any hint of deception but all he could find was tired, relieved joy.

 

“And you’re alive,” she said softly, collapsing to the floor so she could sit next to the bed and rest her head by his chest.

 

“I guess I sorta owe you my life now huh?” Bellamy managed, though his voice was choked with emotion. 

 

“I mean pretty much,” Octavia smirked, taking his hand and looking up at him from where she rested her head, “My brother, my responsibility right?”

 

Bellamy gave a strangled laugh that was probably about 50% sob and squeezed his sister’s hand with the meager strength he had regained.

 

They lay there in silence for a few minutes, both just happy that the other was alive.

 

“I was wrong you know,” Octavia finally said, pulling her head up to look at him thoughtfully.

 

“Wrong about what?” Bellamy asked groggily. He was definitely improving but his body had a lot of healing left to do and he was slowly drifting back to sleep.

 

“Clarke,” she said simply, nodding toward the other side of him. “About the two of you.”

 

Sleep retreated again as Bellamy dragged his attention to the other side of his cot where a second figure was curled into a chair. 

 

“She’s been refusing to leave,” Octavia filled him in as he studied his sleeping partner. He had definitely seen her look better from an objective point of view, her hair was a tangled mess around her face and her t-shirt was on backwards. A small frown twisted her features and her shoeless feet twitched where they were drawn up onto the chair but he was of the opinion that he had never seen her look more beautiful. She was alive and he was alive and honestly what else mattered?

 

“She was ready to die for you Bell,” Octavia said earnestly and Bellamy dragged his gaze from Clarke to look back at his sister. She nodded with a small smile at the question on his face.

 

“I’ve always just wanted you to be happy,” she added, her version of an apology for meddling, Bellamy knew. Given the circumstances it wasn’t really necessary but he butted her shoulder with his head so she knew that all was forgiven anyway.

 

“I’m sure you two won’t make it easy,” she teased, “so good luck with that.”

 

“Thanks,” he replied, “Love you too, O.”

 

* * *

 

Clarke woke up and groaned. She stretched her legs out in front of her and could hear every joint in her spine and legs pop. She had been stiff before she crammed herself into the chair and hours of inactivity in that position had only made it that much worse.

 

She had gotten confirmation from her mother that Bellamy’s vitals were improving. That against all odds her stupid plan had worked and he was nearly out of the woods. The relief she felt had been staggering but she still needed to see for herself so she had spent the majority of the past 24 hours posted at his bedside as Octavia recovered next to him.

 

She twisted her back one way and then the other, listening to further creaking from her tortured body and was rolling her neck in restorative circles when she noticed that the occupant of the bed next to her was sitting upright, a book abandoned on his lap as he looked at her with undisguised amusement. 

 

“Good morning Princess,” he rasped, his voice still a little rusty from disuse which only made it deeper. 

Clarke had an entire speech planned for when he came to but all of it fled her head immediately as she was overcome by the fact that he was truly awake and going to be alright and she was throwing herself into his arms without a second thought.

 

Bellamy let out a small exaggerated ‘oof’ but his arms quickly came up to wrap her in an equally encompassing hug.

 

Clarke found she was unable to keep herself together any longer surrounded by his familiar arms. All of the worry, grief, and anger she had felt for weeks, emotions she didn’t even have names for flooded her and she sobbed into his chest, collapsing further into the circle of his embrace.

 

Bellamy hauled her closer to him though she could tell his strength was still greatly diminished and dropped his head to her hair. She could feel his own wet tears soaking her scalp as she knotted her hands in his shirt and bawled into him. 

 

She had no idea how long they had stayed that way but she knew that eventually they both cried themselves out and even dozed lightly in each others arms after the exhausting emotional release.

 

She shifted carefully in case he was still asleep but looked up to see his warm brown eyes trained on her. 

 

Clarke disentangled herself from him and rose to stand next to his bed. There was something in those eyes that looked like a confession and she didn’t want to let him speak before she had a chance to say her piece. 

 

“Where’s Octavia?” she asked.

 

“Dr. Mom said she was cleared for duty so she’s with Lincoln,” he replied, his eyes darting around trying to take all of her in at once.

 

She was surprised how nervous she still felt. She had thought that almost losing him and coming to terms with her feelings herself was the scariest part but a portion of her still worried that maybe she was making a mistake. Maybe everyone was wrong and he loved her in the same way he loved the rest of his friends. Maybe she was about to screw things up just as she got him back again.

 

“I need to get this out before you say anything,” she began, her hands twisting around each other nervously in front of her. “You are the most important person on this entire damn planet to me. I almost lost you and it broke me. You are my best friend Bellamy.”

 

She could see his face start to shutter, resignation creeping into his eyes like he really thought she would break up with him again while he sat on the bed he almost died in.

 

“Without you there isn’t really a me anymore. You are funny and nerdy and brilliant and grumpy and beautiful and good and you feel like you don’t deserve this, but Bellamy you deserve everything.”

 

He still looked deeply apprehensive and Clarke couldn’t help but shake her head with a fond smile. She could be standing here saying these things about him and he could still somehow not get it. It definitely wasn’t how she had planned on this revelation going, with him still covered in blood and looking like a corpse in a hospital bed, but fuck it.

 

“I’m in love with you. I love you and I have for longer than I’ve been able to admit and I’m sorry I’m so messed up and didn’t tell you before because you deserve to know how special you are.”

 

It was actually funny the way Bellamy’s face had transformed over the course of 30 seconds. From disappointment to utter shock. His eyes were wide and his mouth was literally hanging open as he stared at her. Clarke smiled hesitantly, her heart thundering in her chest as he continued to gape at her but the moment was shattered as Abby strode into the airlock full of purpose. She immediately went to Bellamy to check his vitals and the IV line, saying something about how much better his color looked this afternoon.

 

Clarke gathered herself together and quickly pecked Bellamy on the cheek before sneaking out of the airlock to give her mother space to care for her patient. Their conversation was very plainly not over, but they couldn’t exactly have it with her mom in the room either. 

 

Clarke smiled to herself as she walked out of the Ark and into the warm summer day. He was alive. They had plenty of time.

 

* * *

 

“And you just walked away?” Raven asked, looking at her with a stupefied expression.

 

“I mean, yeah,” Clarke said a little defensively, “My mom walked in. We couldn’t very well talk with her in there.”

 

“You exhaust me Griffin, you really do,” Raven sighed after Clarke had finished recounting the exchange in the airlock to her. Clarke had been pretty proud of herself for finally getting up the guts to be honest about her feelings but Raven clearly didn’t share her optimism.

 

Clarke had showered, the first time in days, and gone back to her tent for a fresh set of clothes before seeking Raven out to update her on everything. Given her friend’s patient encouragement when it came to her love life she figured she owed her an honest conversation. The pair had spent several hours hidden away in Raven’s tent just talking and celebrating in the fact that this latest horror was really and truly over. 

 

“Are you somehow unaware of that boy’s penchant for speeches?” she asked with an amused snort, “you denied him a pretty epic opportunity by sneaking off like that. I’m not sure he’s going to take real kindly to that.”

 

“I didn’t-“ Clarke began, only to be cut off as the boy in question stormed into Raven’s tent.

 

He had taken enough time to wash his face and swap out his ruined shirt for a clean one but his hair was still a disheveled bed-heady mess and a circle of blood on his inner arm proved he had more or less just ripped out his IV and come looking for her.

 

“Goodbye Raven,” Bellamy ground out, not even sparing a glance for the tent’s owner, his attention focused solely on Clarke.

 

Raven sent Clarke a smug ‘I told you so’ look over his shoulder and grabbed a radio off her desk before exiting the tent, “Do keep in mind that is my bed and I am the only one that’s supposed to have sex in it,” she threw as a parting shot.

 

“You left,” Bellamy said, frustration obvious on his face and in his voice. “You said that and then you just left.” 

 

Clarke found herself backed against Raven’s small dresser, bracketed in by Bellamy’s muscular arms. She had thought he might be a little irritated at her for her swift retreat but she hadn’t been expecting this level of anger. She could feel his irritation coming off of him in waves, deepening his voice and causing him to invade her personal space. A piece of her felt apologetic but for the most part all she felt was hopelessly turned on.

 

She looked up at him looming over her, dark curls falling over his forehead and chewed at her bottom lip. She saw his gaze drop to her mouth and she couldn’t help but play with him a little as she boosted herself onto the dresser and wound her legs around his to drag him a little closer.

 

Clarke watched a muscle tick in his clenched jaw as he fought for control. She adjusted her tank top so it was pulled a little bit lower across her chest and looked up at him through her eyelashes.

 

“Say it again,” he demanded, his hands going to her hips, fingers digging in with almost bruising force.

 

“I love you,” Clarke repeated and his mouth on hers hot and demanding the second the words were out of her mouth.

 

It had been way too long and Clarke reveled in the kiss, deep and wet and dirty. If she didn’t stop soon they were definitely going to desecrate Raven’s bed. 

 

She forced herself to pull away but couldn’t help but grind herself against him and place a parting open mouthed kiss on him one more time.

 

“I haven’t actually heard how you are feeling about this,” she said breathlessly. The awed look on his face didn’t really leave much doubt in her mind but she wanted to hear it anyway.

 

“You have to know,” he smiled, “everyone knows. I’ve been gone for you since the first time this shit happened and you’re standing there while the world falls apart around you, quoting Oppenheimer and looking like a goddamn warrior princess. I’m a fucking asshole for it taking nearly dying to get me to tell you.”

 

Clarke blushed and caught her bottom lip with her teeth again.

 

“I love you Clarke,” Bellamy said, and he was right she did know but that didn’t mean hearing it wasn’t the best thing that ever happened to her. 

 

“You know,” Clarke mused, winding her arms around his neck, “Raven didn’t say anything about her desk being off limits.”

 

Bellamy threw his head back and laughed before he smiled at her and yanked her tank top over her head.

 

This is how it’s supposed to be, Clarke thought happily. She pulled her boyfriend down for a kiss feeling sexy and complete and loved.

 

 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one more part left now.   
> I know it's been forever and I probably don't deserve it but any and all reviews are cherished. Even if you just want to yell at me for taking so long! You have my thanks and wishes of canon Bellarke being granted to us all.


	8. Epilogue- Bedroom Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I say a week? I meant a month. If I'm predictable in anything it's my complete ineptness at timely updates. But it's done!!!! I really hope you guys enjoy and that the finished product has been worth the wait. As always, thank you for reading!
> 
> Heads up- this is a little smuttier than previous chapters to start. Hopefully that's a good thing.

* * *

I’ve got big, big plans

And they’ve got to mean something more than just once

I just don’t know what I want

I’m gonna tear your ass up like we just got married and you’re all mine now

Tonight is the night we’ve been waiting for all our lives

 

Bedroom Talk- The Starting Line

* * *

 

Harper and Jonesy started it.

Near-death experiences or near-death adjacent experiences were apparently great motivators when it came to realizations of feelings and subsequent declarations of said feelings, and Clarke and Bellamy were hardly the only people in Arkadia to start a relationship within the first week after the virus began to clear.

Jones had been crazy about Harper since the dropship came down so when he finally got up the courage to make a move things escalated quickly. It had only been 3 months when they approached Bellamy to ask if he was willing to officiate their wedding.

“You give the best speeches,” was Harper’s casual response, delivered with a shrug when a highly flattered, but also highly embarrassed, Bellamy asked why the hell they would want him.

Monroe and her girlfriend Isla were a close second, followed by reformed playboy Ryder and a smitten Mel. 

It got to a point where such ceremonies needed to be scheduled and every few weeks there was another happy couple publicly declaring their commitment to each other. 

They weren’t the solemn and traditional weddings that had been held on the Ark where couples had been through months of vetting in addition to invasive compatibility and genetic testing. They also weren’t the elaborate spiritual affairs that were favored by the grounders for both love matches and marriages for political advantage. They were a hybrid of long held customs and new found means of celebration and ended up tailored to each individual couple depending on their preferences. 

Mel refused to walk down the aisle until she had something old, new, borrowed, and blue while Isla insisted that the service be centered around the feral pig she had tamed and now lead around camp in all manner of colorful bandanas. 

 

It didn’t always fall on Bellamy to preside over the ceremony. Many of the older couples turned to Kane, finding comfort in his familiarity with the rites once preformed by his mother on the Ark. 

When it finally came to Kane and Abby, Clarke tearfully preformed the duty, relieved to find that the tears were almost entirely out of happiness for her mother. 

 

Clarke had thought that the broken heart she suffered at the outcome of her own parents marriage would have permanently soured her on the entire institution but it was hard not to get swept up in the romance of it all. Marriage meant something different on the ground and it was hard not to see it as a kind of victory. On the Ark it was a matter of business in order to procreate in the most efficient and logical way and for the first two years on the ground love and relationships were a luxury that could not be afforded in the middle of a battle for their lives. To be able to make decisions for themselves, to marry a person of their choosing in front of all of their friends, without the threat of violence informing their every move, truly was a win.

 

“We’re going to be late for the wedding,” Bellamy groaned as Clarke tugged urgently at his shirt, mouth ghosting over each inch of the tan skin of his torso as she exposed it. 

 

“Better finish what you started quickly then,” Clarke ordered, sparing him a quick glare before yanking off her own shirt and bra in a single practiced motion. She had no intention of ending up back out by the lake this afternoon until Bellamy’s wandering hands had traveled a little too far north under the lunch table. As little as she typically minded being a little late for the commitment ceremonies, and as much as she loved her handsome boyfriend and his talented fingers, this particular wedding coincided with Dropship Day and so the party planned was a little bigger than usual and she was pretty sure their tardiness was going to be noticed. 

She was also aware that for all of his feigned nonchalance on the topic, Bellamy considered Dropship Day their unofficial anniversary and two years together seemed worth celebrating. It wasn’t that she thought that their bond wasn’t going to be strong enough to take them that far but it had seemed beyond the realm of comprehension to think that she would be lucky enough to keep someone she loved, safe and happy for that long when she had been so woefully unable to in the past.

 

“You should know by now that I can work quick when circumstances demand it.”

 

If Clarke hadn’t been wet already from the memories conjured by that smug reminder of his head between her legs in the medbay and her legs around his waist as he dragged her to the other side of the fence in the middle of the day, his hands gripping her waist to spin her around before dragging her pants down her legs would’ve done it for sure. 

 

Clarke leaned forward to grip the tree in front of her to give herself some leverage to grind her ass back on his jean-clad crotch because it seemed like he was getting a little too much of an edge on her and their innate competitiveness made for some pretty mind-blowing sex. 

 

“Fuck, Princess,” he breathed, his voice the deep growl that drove her crazy as he pulled away long enough to shove his own pants down with one hand and snake the other around to sink two fingers in her. 

 

“At least you don’t have to officiate this one,” Clarke said, her attempt to appear unaffected completely ruined by a choked gasp which punctuated the sentence as he crooked his fingers in the way he knew she liked.

 

“You want quick or you want to have a conversation?” Bellamy asked, his fingers pulling out to trail up and circle her clit, his other hand moving from her hip to slide down her back and fist in her hair.

 

Clarke chose to let her actions answer for her and pushed back against his exposed cock, one hand still bracing her on the tree, the other coming up to play with her tits. 

 

“Awesome, me too,” Bellamy said and pushed into her from behind, Clarke couldn’t help but laugh and she could feel Bellamy’s smile against her neck as he pulled her up lightly by the hair so he could drop a kiss on her shoulder. 

 

Bellamy was true to his word as it didn’t take long for her to fall apart with him pounding into her, his fingers on her clit and mouth and teeth sucking bruises into the crook of her neck, while he came with a shudder and her name on his lips as she met him back thrust for thrust. 

 

“It’s rare that I feel I deserve praise for a quickie but honestly I think I proved a point here,” Bellamy panted, pulling out with a slight wince and refastening the pants that had barely made it past his ass.

 

Clarke rolled her eyes but offered him a high five before pulling up her own pants and retrieving her shirt from the ground.

 

“Congratulations on your diminished stamina,” she teased, picking stray foliage off her shirt. Had she not been closely acquainted with the actual limits of his endurance she might have thought twice about the joke but she was pretty sure Bellamy would just use the taunt as encouragement to demonstrate his abilities for hours later that night and far be it from her to take issue with that.

 

“I’ll diminish your stamina,” he muttered, attempting to look forlorn, but sure enough she could see the promise of an interesting night in the darkening of his eyes.

 

“Cool,” Clarke responded to his nonsensical retort and slipped her hand in his as they began the hike back to camp. The slightly goofy smile that Bellamy gave her when she did filled her with warmth and just the slightest hint of guilt as she remembered how she had been so cautious about such casual touches before she had come to her senses and they made it official. The small shows of public affection clearly meant so much to him and it hurt to think she had ever denied him such a small gesture.

 

Clarke was struck with a wave of fondness for her now long-term boyfriend. It wasn’t unusual for her to be caught up in such a moment of affection but every time she was simultaneously stuck with a sense of wonder, that this was something she got to have. The first 16 years of her life had passed without much heartache but the trauma from the intervening 3 had left her convinced that nothing good could last for her. She had enough death on her conscience to be pretty convinced that it was her karmic lot to suffer. 

 

Bellamy had always been open about his feelings of inadequacy. Feeling as though he was a disappointment to the people who believed in him and undeserving of the respect and love he received. It had taken years for Clarke to break him of feeling unworthy and it was taking even longer to fully banish the emotions in herself. 

 

It had been two years since they crossed the first line and started sleeping together and had been an official couple for just under that. Not every moment was perfect. Bellamy was quick to follow his heart while she was ruled by her head and sometimes it put them at odds. But at the end of every day they fell asleep together sure in their love. Now that she had this, she couldn’t begin to understand why she had ever fought against it or tried to ignore her feelings. Loving and being loved by Bellamy Blake was all she ever needed.

 

“Love you,” Clarke said simply, looking up at Bellamy with a small smile. She had waited long enough to say it and she had made sure that not a day for the past two years went by without him hearing it. Murphy said they were disgusting but Jasper said they were his romantic idols so she considered it pretty much a wash.

 

Bellamy squeezed her hand and smiled brighter, their conversation turning to routine matters in Arkadia. Peace time meant that resources could be turned from guard duties and war room meetings to education and art and when Arkadia’s first school year had begun it had done so with both of them as teachers. Bellamy was in heaven talking endlessly about history and literature and Clarke no longer had the stomach for the medicine after all those hours in the airlock. No one had much of a heart to argue when her hours slowly dwindled to nothing and she spent most of her time teaching the artistically inclined and serving as their de facto hairdresser. 

She and Bellamy could come together each day for lunch and again in their cabin at bedtime with endless stories about their respective students, and feeling finally, like they were doing what they wanted instead of what they had to in order to survive.

 

“Jesus fucking Christ, you two.”

 

“It’s like living with Shakespeare,” Bellamy muttered and Clarke smothered her smile into his shoulder, “she truly has a way with words.”

 

“You can’t keep your damn hands to yourselves for 24 fucking hours?” Raven groused, meeting them as soon as they crossed back into camp with a scowl and a clear set of marching orders.

 

“Nope,” Bellamy responded unapologetically and Clarke just shrugged.

 

“Your public sex kink is showing Griffin. You’ve completely ruined the lake for me. And the showers. And my desk.” Raven paused for a second as if taking a mental tally, “Everywhere. You two have ruined everywhere.”

 

“No fair,” Clarke bleated, she could feel her cheeks heating up and was sure a completely embarrassing blush was totally blowing her cover, “No fair kink-shaming me when I am clearly not the only guilty party here.”

 

“Oh no, before you this one kept all of his conquests more or less tucked away in tents and cabins,” she said gesturing vaguely towards Bellamy, “this is definitely a you thing.”

 

Clarke kicked Raven lightly in the shin and affixed her best pout, but there wasn’t much she could say. It wasn’t like her friend was exactly wrong.

 

“This is a him thing,” Raven groaned reaching out and tugging Clarke’s shirt to the side to expose the already darkening hickeys decorating her neck, collarbone, and cleavage.

 

Bellamy failed to display the same embarrassment as Clarke and looked down on his handiwork with pride. Raven caught his stare and let go of Clarke’s shirt to smack him across the back of the head.

 

“You two are awfully violent today,” he observed, “It’s a wedding day, today is a day for love.”

 

“Oh so you do remember,” Raven retorted, “I wasn’t sure you did given you both decided to disappear for a quickie an hour before the damn ceremony.”

 

Bellamy did manage to look chagrined at this and tousled his fingers through his hair in a show of making it presentable.

 

“Yeah, no” Raven said, latching onto Clarke’s arm and gently pulling her away, “It’s going to take a lot more than that to make you presentable. Shower, shave, and put on something without a gaping hole in the armpit.”

 

Bellamy saluted with his free hand and pulled Clarke back to him briefly with their still tangled hands so he could press a quick kiss to her knuckles before setting her free.

 

Raven rolled her eyes but a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, “Let’s see what we can do about disguising the fact that you are apparently dating fucking Dracula.”

 

* * *

 

“Dearly beloved, mere acquaintances, people I frankly don’t care for, and Murphy, we are gathered here today to witness the one, and only one, of these ceremonies that I will be officiating. For the most part I’ve thought these were a waste of time and just a stupid excuse for a party that would be a hell of a lot more fun without all the sentiment. But this one is different, and for reasons beyond the addition of my witty, original banter.”

 

Raven paused, giving the soft laughter from the crowd a second to die down as she turned her attention from the gathered audience to the couple in front of her.

 

“These two came to me and asked me to do this for them and my initial response was to ask if they were fucking crazy since unlike the two of them I am not well known for my rousing speeches and I am also loudly on the record as believing romance is dead. The fact is though, that we came down here four years ago and became a family. We’ve been through some dark shit but we’ve had some great times too and every second of it just brought us closer and when family asks you for a favor you need a pretty good reason to say no. I thought my screwed up history and utter cynicism over relationships was excuse enough. It’s hard to stand up in front of a crowd and talk about love and commitment when you have my sort of track record. I haven’t had many reasons to believe in true love from my own experiences but I do have these two. It’s really hard to stay as pessimistic as I would like when my best friends prove me wrong every day. Seeing how they compliment each other and the happiness it brings them I can’t help but think maybe there’s something to all this after all.”

 

Bellamy was pretty sure Raven was tearing up but it was tough to tell when his own eyes had been watering pretty consistently for the past half hour. Clarke for her part was just beaming. Her smile was radiant and there was a teasing glint in her eyes over his tears since she had bet him a back rub that he would be the one to break down. Bellamy didn’t think her smugness was quite deserved given he in no way had disagreed that he was going to be the emotional mess between the two of them. 

 

Getting ready hadn’t been an especially complicated process since formal wear and bridal parties weren’t a concern but they had been separated for an hour before the ceremony so that Harper could ‘make Clarke presentable’. It was a struggle as he had been unwilling to let Clarke out of his sight for more than 5 minutes at a time for the entire week leading up to the wedding. 

 

Neither of them had ever had much doubt in their relationship since its start, or needed some sort of acknowledgement of it to make their commitment to each other official. Nor were they under the impression that marriage made a relationship stronger or more real given their respective parents’ examples. They were happy and that was enough. 

Then Abby and Kane had gotten married and Clarke’s mother had very calmly and matter of factly passed her wedding ring from her marriage to Jake off to him as she replaced it with one of the plain iron bands Raven had taken to forging in a lucrative side business. ‘Just in case’ she had said, but given her former reluctance over their relationship Bellamy knew it had been her giving him her blessing. 

 

It had still taken more than a year for him to actually use the ring. 

Without life threatening chaos at every turn Jasper had the opportunity to get bored and with it came a literal deluge of pranks. Miller had ice water poured on him over the wall of his shower. Monty had an air horn blast everyday for a week when he opened the door to his new cabin. Murphy bit into a caramel covered onion. Bellamy found every one of his books gift wrapped and replaced on his shelf. 

Clarke had been twitchy for a month waiting to become the target of Jasper’s juvenile restlessness before she walked into the medbay and was met with a face full of shaving cream. Bellamy had been walking just behind her and wasn’t even remotely successful in keeping a straight face when she turned around, mouth agape in horror, eyes screwed tightly shut against the burn from the white foam. She wiped at her face with her hands and finally opened her eyes and Bellamy almost laughed at the look of abject betrayal on her face, as though she had been assaulted with something much more dire than shaving cream. Instead of laughing though, he went with what was really running through his head in the moment and said simply ‘Marry me?’

 

Clarke had blinked at him blankly for almost half a minute, justifiably confused by his timing before she grinned and pulled her father’s ring out on the chain from where it hung beneath her shirt. ‘Think Raven can make this fit your delicate fingers?’

 

In something that felt a little bit like fate the ring hadn’t actually required any sort of alteration and 3 months later on what Bellamy had always considered to be their anniversary they were standing in the middle of camp while Raven roasted them in front of half the population of Arkadia. 

 

So, pretty much perfect.

 

Raven sighed and handed him a handkerchief which more or less answered his question as to her emotional state but he was validated to see most of the front row, including his usually stoic little sister, crying softly once he wiped his own eyes.

 

“And with that I’m going to hand it off to these two melodramatic fools who of course had to write their own vows,” Raven prompted and yanked the handkerchief back to dab at her own face. Bellamy might have felt vindicated but his attention had shifted solely to Clarke who was standing across from him and still smiling a smile he wasn’t sure he’d seen before.

 

Bellamy squeezed her hands lightly and cleared his throat. It went without saying that he would have to go first since he would probably be reduced to a mute emotional train wreck by her vows. He wasn’t normally one to broadcast his personal life but in this one instance they both agreed they wanted to say a few words. He still chose to keep his voice fairly low, so there was no doubt that his words were meant for Clarke and the rest was just collateral.

 

“I wake up every single day in awe of you Princess. I was half in love with you the day we met and every day since you’ve proven how strong, intelligent, resourceful, and caring you are. You are an amazing woman,” he gave Clarke a smile private smile and reached out to brush a stray curl from her temple and she leaned into his touch until he returned his hand to hers. 

“I didn’t believe in love at first sight but I’ve had to reevaluate my thoughts on soul mates since you came into my life. I’m far from perfect but for all of my numerous failings there’s you to bridge the gap. In the most basic sense you simply complete me. I love you Clarke.”

 

Clarke leaned across the space between them and pecked him quickly on the lips.

 

“For fuck’s sake,” Raven complained, “it’s not time for that yet.”

 

Clarke completely ignored their cranky officiant and looked him directly in the eyes for her own vows.

 

“I love you Bellamy Blake.” 

 

Bellamy was glad he went first as Clarke reached out this time to brush a tear from his cheek. He didn’t even last a sentence. 

 

“You are a good man. Whenever I have a doubt about humanity, whether we deserve this second chance, I just look to you and I see your kindness and your love and I’m reassured. You make me want to be a better person and I honestly think that’s the most important trait to have in the person you love. I have my dad’s ring here today and I can’t think of a more perfect person to wear it. You are all the good he ever wanted to be. He would be so proud of us and I just know he would have loved you. You inspire me and I am so lucky you’re mine and I’m yours.”

 

Octavia stepped forward from the assembled crowd and handed each of them a ring, pausing quickly to give her brother a frighteningly tight hug.

 

“Since you’re so eager to make out let’s finish this up,” Raven said but her smile, again, was fond. “Clarke do you take this absolute mess of a human as your husband?”

 

“I do,” Clarke said through a smile as Bellamy slipped her mother’s old ring on her finger.

 

“And Bellamy do you take this literal disaster as your wife?”

 

“I do.” 

 

Clarke pushed her father’s ring onto his finger and Bellamy beamed at his wife.

 

“Great, now kiss,” Raven ordered and Bellamy and Clarke didn’t need to be told twice. 

 

Bellamy had considered going for the dramatic and dipping her back like some of the more demonstrative couples had done previously but ultimately was glad for the simple moment with her arms wound around his neck and his hands cupping her face while the crowd erupted in cheers.

 

The party would come soon and it was going to be followed by the rest of their lives together. But for a second he rested his forehead on hers and they shared a loving smile. 

 

“Remember when I said it was a bad idea when you propositioned me? I’ve changed my mind.”

 

“Yeah,” Clarke said before leaning up to kiss him again, “it was pretty much my best idea ever.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews genuinely mean the world to me so any and all thoughts can be left below. I've got another story in the works and an update for Fracturing the Fairytale so keep an eye out for whats still to come.
> 
> Thanks for sticking with this! You, reader, are the best!


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